A New Garden
by Ulfcloak
Summary: The dreaded Flower is released, free to bloom in a new garden.
1. Prelude

**Story Adherence: Drakengard 3, Branch D/ Shi ni Itaru Aka (partial)/ Judgement (partial)**

* * *

1094 A.D.

Zero knew this feeling anywhere: she was being reborn. It was a bizarre sensation, having her body rebuilt from the ground up, but she did not have to bear the discomfort for long. The regeneration process had always been quick, and before she knew it, her body was whole again. The first thing she became aware of was the frigid stone floor beneath her body, a mediocre way to start off her new life to be sure. Stale, dead air filled her lungs in what was easily the most disappointing first breath she had ever taken. For whatever reason, the world seemed bent on putting her in the shittiest mood possible. She couldn't blame it, given what she had done, but just because she understood didn't mean she wasn't pissed.

Irritated, she picked herself up and tried to rise to her feet, eager to be just about anywhere else. Standing, as usual, took a while to manage properly. Her newly constructed muscles took time to adjust to, but Zero prided herself on being faster to master her new bodies with every new incarnation. The tradition continued as she was fully acclimated in a matter of seconds, feeling not even a bit out of place in her new vessel.

She should be overjoyed to be alive again, but there was something about the way it happened that concerned her. Zero didn't know how long she had been sealed away, but for nearly all of that time she had been fighting. It took everything she had to keep herself safe from the Flower's oppressive influence, and sometimes even that wasn't enough. She had been brought to the brink more than a few times. In the moments she was weak, in the moments she questioned the worth of her struggle, she could feel her mind begin to fade. Slowly but surely her thoughts would grind to a halt, and for great spans of time there would simply be nothing. No thoughts, no fear, no regrets… Only the void. Then, like a spark in an endless black abyss, she would fight her way back, unsure of how long she had been subjugated, and terrified of when she would slip again.

When her opportunity finally came, it presented itself as a brief respite. It was as if suddenly, the weight of the entity's attention had been lifted, leaving her barely enough strength to exist of her own volition. Without thinking, she clung to this new strength and immersed herself in the comfort it brought. Then, she was here. She couldn't imagine what could have allowed this, but she had been a student of the world long enough to know it couldn't have been anything good. Perhaps knowing where she had reappeared would shed some light on the situation.

The white haired woman surveyed her surroundings, finding herself inside an enormous stone chamber with only one exit. There was no telling what this place was designed to contain, but it sure as hell wasn't her. This room was large enough to hold hundreds of people; she doubted they would waste the effort of building it on a single wayward goddess. The only hint she had as to its purpose was the faint magical energy lingering in the air, but it was ultimately wasted on her. Someone like One would be able to get quite a lot of information from analyzing the magic, but Zero never had any aptitude for the arcane. Aside from the power of song that was literally forced upon her, she was about as mundane as they came. Seeing no use in staying put any longer, she decided to look elsewhere for her answers.

Zero passed through the chamber's gateway to be met with a hauntingly familiar sight. A cityscape of buildings far beyond the means of man stretched across the horizon, and an endless horde of wyverns danced across the crimson sky. This was without a doubt the Cathedral City, or at least what had become of it.

Once again, she stood on the stage that hosted the climax of her life. All manner of emotions began to well within her, threatening to bring composure crashing to the ground. She had lost everything here: Michael, the disciples, even her own life. If it was up to her, she would rend the city from the face of the planet and never look back. The only thing that was stopping her was the fact that she would be forsaking the world so many she cared about had given their lives for. This world didn't deserve their sacrifice, but she respected their choices nonetheless. Some of them were cruel fiends, some were perverse deviants, and all of them were fools… but they faithfully followed her into hell. They gave everything to a worthless woman like her, someone that could give nothing in return. This was the least she could do to repay them.

Even a vile human like her would still her own rage in their memory, so then what was this?

What gods would allow such a cruel fucking joke?

How could a world they fought so hard for repay them with this insult?

The intoner Zero fell to her knees in tears, for floating over the city was a great black flower.

* * *

 _I don't care what happens, just come back to me alive._

Caim held his eyes closed as his sister's plea echoed in his mind. Even now he could clearly see Furiae's young face twisted in fear as her brother went off to war. To mar the visage of an innocent child with such a great and terrible trepidation… to him, the Empire was guilty of no greater sin.

They marched across the continent, bloodied blades in hand and flames in their wake. Tens of thousands had met pain and suffering at their hands, and all of them were left wondering what their sorrow had bought. As far as anyone could tell, the Empire's advance was without purpose –slaughter for the sake of slaughter. Now their onslaught had reached all the way to the Land of Mountains, and Caerleon stood ready to fight for its fate.

The prince opened his eyes, struggling against the harsh sun to see the enemy before him. Thousands of soldiers stood in perfect lines, pristine imperial steel glistening in the light of the day. Their apparent discipline and equipment were more than enough to stir unease in Caim's heart. Although the brilliant military mind of Lord Ipris stood with him, Caerleon's army paled in comparison. They were a noble lot to be sure, but were outmatched in nearly all factors a good general would consider. Training, equipment, numbers… the forces of Caerleon were left wanting for it all. Some would say one or two good leaders on the field could shore up the difference, but Caim was young and knew naught of how to stir the hearts of men.

"Tell me boy, how does it look?"

Caim stirred from his thoughts, turning to face the man that addressed him. The scarred face of Lord Ipris met him, his experienced eyes Caim's one bastion of hope in the face of the coming battle. The man looked like more like a thug than a noble, but Ipris had once been his father's greatest rival, and was second in Caerleon only to King Gaap himself.

"'How does it look?'" the prince repeated.

"The battle… how do you think it's going to go?"

Caim looked to the battle lines behind him to ensure none of his men were within earshot before answering. "To be honest, it doesn't matter much what I think. They can match us three men to one, and their every soldier is clad in plate, head to toe. I have no plans to lose, but I doubt even myself in the face of such odds."

The balding veteran shook his head in disapproval. "You've honed your body and blade well under my guidance, but I see we've neglected your mind. That drivel you just spouted is exactly what the enemy thinks. Hell, they probably haven't even drafted up a decent strategy."

"And you have?"

"Don't need to," the man said, pride practically pouring out of his smug grin. "We just have to get out there and show 'em what we're made of."

Caim wondered if his mentor wasn't guilty of the same overconfidence he accused the empire of, but he knew better than to challenge him on such things. If Ipris was so sure that fighting the imperial forces head on was the best way to go about the battle, it was unlikely there was a better alternative. The prince struggled to wrap his head around the logic, so he would have to make sure to live long enough to see the plan in action.

"Come to think of it, this is your first battle, isn't it boy?"

"Not quite," Caim answered, his voice far more somber than before.

The events of the previous year came rushing back to Ipris's memory, and he wondered how he could possibly have forgotten. "Ah, that's right... the riots. Perhaps you're more prepared for this than I am."

It had been only six months since the vagrants called One and Nero brought the red eye disease to Caerleon. For nearly a week, the kingdom became hell on earth. The castle had broken out into mania, with victims of the infection brutalizing everyone they could get their hands on. Caim had fought desperately through that nightmare to keep Furiae and her maid Shirley safe, running through guards and servants he had known his entire life.

In the end, the castle was brought under control through hours of paranoid slaughter, and the outsiders expelled. The disease did not spread far beyond the castle walls, but for the following days it was not uncommon to hear of a spontaneous killing brought on by the outbreak. The kingdom had come far to recover from these tragedies, but the red eyes weren't done with them yet.

A strange motion in the lines of the imperial forces caught the eye of the Prince, and his nerves flared with anticipation once he realized what was happening. One after the other, the soldiers of the empire raised their blades above their head, each mimicking the man next to him in perfect synchronization. The display was as beautiful as it was intimidating, and in a matter of seconds the army of thousands had their weapons readied.

"Remember why you bare your blade, Caim," Ipris began. "Not to slay those before you, but to protect those behind you." With those words, the veteran raised his blade, inciting a fierce roar from the defenders of Caerleon. The voices of his comrades shook Caim's body to the core, but he did not join them, his focus instead on the circular charm he wore around his wrist. The prince's resolve was silent, but strong. He was prepared to suffer any manner of injury if it meant keeping those he loved safe. Furiae and the others had seen enough for one lifetime. This madness would end here, by his hand.

The empire began its advance and Caerleon charged forth, closing the great distance between their forces with dauntless courage and blades steadied by staunch determination. It quickly became clear to Caim that the imperial soldiers had no intention of giving ground to his charge, meaning he would have to create room himself. The prince readied his two-handed blade, singling out the poor fool that would be the first to fall to his advance. The two armies clashed in a deafening cacophony of screams and clashing steel, Caim dispatching his chosen target with a single swing through the man's barely exposed neck.

The world faded into a blur as the imperials descended upon him like raindrops in a thunderstorm. He panicked when faced with the sight of the enemy army's size, but with every blade he matched, with every life he took, his consciousness slowly faded into obscurity. Before long naught but instinct guided the prince's sword, sending red eye after red eye to an early grave. Their strength was phenomenal, but just like the infected during the riots, it was ultimately their greatest weakness. They attacked with simple and predictable strikes, seeking to overwhelm their foes with their inhuman power alone. Such unrefined blades would never reach him.

Caim was still young, but he had spent more than a decade honing himself into a peerless warrior. There was no grace that a peasant would come to expect from a swordsman of royal birth. Absent were the great sweeps twirls one would see from a showman. Instead one found that his movements were swift, minimalist, and above all, lethal. The lack of wasted motion left Caim ready to adapt to his needs on a moment-to-moment basis. His sequences, although resembling patchwork more than regal swordplay, kept him untouched and left his enemies dead.

Steel rent flesh and bone as Caim withdrew his blade from his latest opponent. He knew not how long he had been fighting or how many he had killed, but he wasn't going to stop now. He readied himself to receive his next foe, but a foe never came. Instead of continuing their assault, the red eyes were backing away from the prince, weapons still at the ready. He could only assume they had realized that challenging him was unwise, and had stopped to reevaluate their positions. As they fixated on him, soldiers of Caerleon crashed into their ranks with the fury of a typhoon, claiming far more than their dues in imperial blood.

The young man smiled to himself as he finally came to understand Ipris's plot. Numbers meant nothing if an army's morale had fallen to pieces. The proud empire marched into Caerleon expecting complete and total domination, but was met with steadfast resistance. The faster a cart travels, the greater the upheaval when it is disrupted. In that same vein, every second that Caerleon held fast subverted imperial expectations to a greater and greater degree. Eventually they would come to doubt themselves. What could they do but panic when the tides of such an advantageous battle turned against them? With his own display of martial mastery and the valiant efforts of his countrymen, the spirits of the invaders had been shattered.

A look around the battlefield confirmed his suspicions. All across the battle lines, the imperial forces were beginning to retreat. A cry of victory was raised to the heavens as the three-eyed banners of the empire began fading into the distance. Caim was not sure if he was happier to be victorious or alive, but joy colored his spirit nonetheless.

He would normally be eager to join his comrades in revelry and merriment, but doubt had sewn its seeds in his mind. While the empire had only suffered a scarce few defeats, he had never heard of the red eye army retreating. In every reported loss to reach his ear, their forces were routed to the man. During the riots, he had known them to lose themselves in their frenzied rampages, even in situations most would deem suicide. Why, then, was this the exception?

As much as the questioned threatened to drive him to paranoia, he had other priorities. The wounded on the field needed tending, and the dying had to be given their last rights. Traditionally, there would also be a search for captured nobles or others that could be ransomed off, but the red eyes may as well have been a swarm of flies. Not a soul that marched under the three eyed banner was worth anything to the empire, and their minds were often too far gone for interrogation to be of any value. As such, the imperial wounded were sent to their gods, nameless and rotting on foreign soil.

The valiant sons of Caerleon would return home heroes, Caim and Ipris foremost among them. The entire nation celebrated, but the prince's mind would not settle. He was overjoyed that their victory had seen Caerleon safely into the future, but the empire was far from defeated. The giant still loomed at their borders, and Caerleon could not hope to stand against their full force. The king and his lords would indulge in their triumph and Caim would play along, but he was no fool. A war was coming. Live or die, he would face it prepared.

* * *

 **A/N: I had two different scenes planned as potential candidates for Chapter 1, but struggled to expand on either them long enough for them to reach full chapter length without feeling unnecessarily drawn out and boring. In the end I decided to chop them both down to their essentials and release them simultaneously as a prologue chapter. It's still a lot shorter than I would have liked, but I think it does its job of laying the groundwork for the story well enough. Actual chapters coming soon. Thanks for reading.**


	2. With Friends Like These

For minutes on end, Zero stayed on her knees, devastated. All of her strength had left her, and the modicum of hope she had for a new life had already been torn away. Her greatest fear had come to pass: even in death, she could not escape the Flower. However, even as she drowned in despair, something struck her as odd. She didn't know how, but this Flower was different. She felt it was a subtle change, but the discrepancy was driving her mad. She needed to know. What could it be?

The obvious answer was that it was black as opposed to the usual white, but she had seen it take this form when it was first released from the Mercurius Gate. She thought Michael had destroyed it, but it was not unthinkable that the entity could appear this way yet again.

There was probably no use in worrying about such things when its voice could overpower her at any moment. There were no sisters to share her burden as far as she could tell; when it came to reclaim what it owned, she wouldn't be able to resist it for long.

 _Why don't you just take me? What point is there in leaving me here to feel sorry for myself? Just do it. Make your voice fill my head until it's the only thing I can hear. Take this fear away from me._

It was then that she realized what had changed. No longer was the Flower's influence a subtle song that grew in volume as it strengthened its hold on her. Instead, there was no song at all; her mind was hers and hers alone. Zero lifted a trembling hand to her tear-streaked face, fearing to ask the question just as much as she feared the answer. She brought it to her right eye, and her heart leapt out of her chest.

It was gone. The Flower that damned her to an eternal cycle of death and rebirth was gone. Could she actually be free? This was all she had wanted for years, and now, now it could be hers. She could finally leave this curse behind her and live in peace.

At least, that's what she would have done under better circumstances. How fitting that the Flower would find a way to twist this victory against her. Without the power of song magic, she stood no chance against the reawakened entity. She was just another human, less than an ant in its eyes.

What could she possibly do now? Was she just supposed to roll over and wait for death as the Flower visited atrocities upon the world? There was no way she could accept that, not after she had finally rid herself of that damned parasite. She had to fight… if only she could find a way…

"Who goes there? Identify yourself."

She had never heard a voice so devoid of life; just the sound of it made her incredibly uneasy. Zero turned to face the man that called out to her to find a trio of hulking pike-bearing knights, each of them covered in some of the thickest plate she had ever seen. She would normally be able to cleave through men like them, but right now she had no idea what she was and wasn't capable of. On top of that, she didn't have a weapon. If she was truly human, she wouldn't even be able to scratch their armor, and even if she could, she'd be impaled long before she reached them.

The soldiers approached her and readied their weapons, their leader repeating his demand. "Identify yourself or die."

There was no choice; she had to play nice. Still, she couldn't exactly answer the question. 'Zero' had never been someone that the people of the Cathedral City thought highly of, and she doubted that had changed after killing their goddesses. There was always a chance she had been sealed away so long that her name and deeds had been lost to history, but she wasn't ready to gamble away the life she had only just obtained.

"My name is Rose," she said, steadily raising her empty hands. "I'm not trying to cause trouble. I'm just lost."

The knights stood inhumanly still as their piercing red eyes looked over her body, taking in what information they could. Zero waited at the tips of their pikes, a combination of habit and nerves screaming at her to fight. Resisting the urge was as stressful as it had ever been, especially when she noticed no signs that her answer was going over well with the soldiers. They gave her nothing; what little she could see of their faces behind their visors was completely unreadable, frozen over with the empty gaze of the dead.

After a nauseating silence, the three lowered their weapons in perfect unison. "You are under arrest. Come with us."

Zero sighed and nodded, following behind the men completely unbound as they led her through the alien ruins that surrounded the Mercurius Gate. This wasn't what she had hoped for, but anything was better than being killed. If anything, a bit of time in custody would give her time to come up with a good cover story. With luck, she'd be able to lie her way out of captivity once an official came to review her situation. Though, she had been arrested before, and she knew there was also the possibility for this to be a _very_ unpleasant experience. She could only hope for the best.

A short walk through the desolate cityscape saw them arrive at a rundown building guarded by two more armored soldiers, still far from any part of the Cathedral City that could be considered livable. Her escort stopped short of the exterior guards, sparing them a brief explanation of how they came about their latest captive.

"This one was by the Mercurius Gate."

The guards didn't even pay her a passing glance, instructing her escort with the same monotone speech.

"Put her with the other one. The High Priestess will decide what to do with them when the time comes."

There was no 'high priestess' in One's empire as far as Zero could remember; it looked like times had changed. One of the men leading her grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward into the building. It was considerably darker inside, lit only by a few small windows that were likely designed with considerations for air as opposed to light. The pair proceeded down a hallway that cut through the center of the building, lined on both sides by cells devoid of prisoners. It didn't seem like a pleasant place to waste away, but she hadn't noticed any racks or torture instruments either. While a jailor in a bad mood could always take his day out on the prisoners with his bare hands or common objects, she found some comfort in the fact that he wouldn't have the more… creative methods available to him.

Before long one of the many barred cells she passed was opened, and she was abruptly tossed inside. Zero waited patiently for the guard to lock her cell and depart, upon which she eagerly took to examining the cell. Unfortunately, the situation was as she assumed it would be when she first laid her eyes on the building. The walls and foundation were made entirely of stone. The structure was old and worn, but it would be more than sturdy enough to withstand a fair bit of damage. Going through that wall meant subtlety was out. If she didn't want her escape to bring the entire Cathedral City down on her, it would have to be through her cell door. That made things much more complicated than creating a hole and making a run for it, but it was better than nothing. If that didn't work, she still had a chance to be released legally, though that may not be for a while. From what she heard, they were waiting on this 'high priestess' to pass judgment, and anyone with such a stuck-up title was bound to be busy.

Zero let out a deep sigh and took a seat against the cell's stone wall. It would take a long time to figure out how the guards here worked. If they didn't feed her or give her water, it may be time she didn't have. In the meantime, she needed to check a few things. She didn't hear the flower anymore, but did that mean she had lost everything else that came with it? Her reflexes and awareness seemed duller than they used to be for sure, but that may have been the extent of it. She had been hesitant to test her strength when it could mean death, but now she was alone with nothing but time.

Now she needed to find a way to do it that wouldn't raise suspicion and didn't pose a risk to her well being. Trying to punch out the wall would give her a means to escape, and with her confirmed strength, she could fight any soldiers that came to pursue her. But, if she was human, she would break her hand in ways she did not have the means to heal. In the worst case, the damage would be so severe that she would bleed to death. In fact, punching anything was probably a bad idea.

A bit more thought led her to the metal bars that enclosed the other three sides of her space. If she could bend them out of place, she should be able to bend them back, or at least close enough to their original positions that the guards wouldn't take notice. If her strength was truly gone, she would know without putting herself in harm's way. Nervous but resolved, she gripped a pair of bars that separated her cell from another, enduring the bitter cold that shot through her hands as she did so. With a great effort, she began to pull, and immediately became aware of the truth. Her intoner powers were gone. She was human.

Zero's gaze fell downward in disappointment. Getting out of here was going to be a long, hard process. That was of course, if she wasn't killed or starved to death in the meantime, all of which were almost entirely out of her control. For the millionth time in her life, she found herself calling her luck into question. In only her first hour, she had been faced with a life-or-death situation and thrown into prison. Who knew what the world had in store for her next?

As her focus returned to the world around her, Zero noticed something in the adjacent cell. A person was lying on their side, curled up on the floor for warmth. Their blonde hair was unreasonably long, and splayed about covering nearly half of the cell's area. Their body, as Zero now noticed, bore the curves of a woman, and a rather shapely one at that. Her clothes were mostly white, and much more suited to the chill of the room than Zero's own.

It was only then that she recalled the guards mentioning another prisoner, and her curiosity was piqued. How on earth did someone manage to find themselves locked up in the middle of nowhere? What was she doing so far from the populated areas of the Cathedral City that _this_ was the closest holding chamber to her? How did she even break the law out here? There was no one to hurt, and nothing to steal or vandalize. She just had to know.

Zero knew it would be rude to wake her up, and that it may not be the best idea to piss of what could very well be the only company she would have for the foreseeable future, but it had been a long ass time since she cared about things like that. With a swift but tempered kick to the bars between them, Zero shouted at her fellow inmate, prompting her to stir from her slumber.

"What are you doing?" the girl asked, not entirely awake. "Can't you see I'm trying to sleep?"

"You look awake to me," Zero said. "Look, I have a few questions for you, and you aren't getting any rest until you give me answers."

Frustrated, the woman in the next cell turned to Zero, only to be taken by surprise by what she saw.

Zero expected a litany of threats and insults from the stranger, but all she received was a shocked stare and an extremely uncomfortable silence. She didn't know what was going on, and not knowing was pissing her off.

"What?" she finally asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Zero? Is that really you?"

She was taken aback by this new development. How did this person know her name? Had it not been that long after all? Was she actually well known in this time?

"How the hell do you know my name?"

The woman seemed to become even more confused with Zero's response. "What are you talking about? It's me, One."

Zero's heart stopped. When she thought about it, she definitely sounded like One. Her voice was soft, and every word she spoke was measured and came across as though she had considered it a hundred times over. But that appearance…

One had always been shorter than that, and there was no symbol on this woman's forehead that marked her as the intoner she claimed to be. Even her hair was different. One never let her hair grow past her shoulders, and this woman's fell all the way to the small of her back.

"Cut the shit; One's dead. I killed her with my own hands."

"You did," the woman replied, "but you of all people should know that intoners have a fickle relationship with death."

It was a solid point, a point rooted in knowledge very few were privy to. "What do you mean? Are you saying a dragon fang through the fucking skull didn't kill you?"

"Like I said, you _did_ kill me," the woman repeated. "You killed all of us, but none of us truly died. Instead, we were reclaimed by the Flower and sealed away alongside you. Didn't you feel us there in those final moments? All of our songs were united as one, aimed at that young white dragon. Yours was particularly beautiful. The tranquility in your voice as you sung… I didn't know such peace could exist in this world."

For her to know that much…

"Well, what are you waiting for? You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

Bewilderment returned to One's face. "Why would I do that?"

"Don't play dumb; you're an intoner," Zero said. "You were made to stop me from destroying that Flower."

A simple truth to one. A revelation to the other.

A hint of pain colored One's ruby eyes. All of this time, she had been blind. For all she did to discover the truth of the intoners, it had never once occurred to her that the answers she sought rested with the first of them. "Zero, do you… know how we came to be?"

It was a question Zero never expected to hear. This had to be the same as her statements during their final confrontation. She would say that the intoners were unnatural, that the world had no place for them. She would say they needed to be destroyed. It was a sick joke, meant to make her falter at the most crucial point of her journey. One was a thrall of the Flower, and that was all she'd ever be.

"What does it matter? Finish playing your games and get on with it."

A quiet laugh escaped One's lips. "I doubt I could, even if I tried. My strength is gone, and I no longer feel the pull toward madness and oblivion that fuelled my song."

"You don't hear it either?" Zero asked. "How is that even possible?"

"So it's the same for you, then? I recall fighting for my free will, just as you did, I imagine. Eventually I saw my chance to break free, and I took it. That was about four days ago, I think. I found myself inside the chamber of the Mercurius Gate, and was found by the soldiers that detained us."

There could be no doubt now that this truly was the intoner One. Zero had seen her monstrous ability to call upon tremendous amounts of power without the aid of a disciple, but she never would have thought One would have the desire or ability to resist the Flower's influence over her being. If One had gained her independence, then the missing numeral made plenty of sense.

"I assume you wouldn't know the year then?"

One shook her head. She seemed just as disappointed by that fact as Zero was.

"What about the others?" Zero asked. "Do you think they could have made it out too?"

"It's clearly possible, but… I don't have high hopes for my sisters. They never came to understand the truth of their nature, and some even lost themselves before they were killed. I'm not sure they would have tried to fight it at all. If they do appear in Midgard, it's far more probable they will do so as intoners. Their powers would likely be intact, and their wills subdued."

She was probably right. Most of them couldn't even tell their memories were fake. Only One had the insight to question their situation.

"Nobody would be able to stop them," Zero said. "We'd need a dragon to even stand a chance."

"My thoughts exactly. If we're to do anything about the Flower, we'll need the might of a dragon. I suppose I should consider myself lucky that you're here."

"How do you figure? I'm not strong enough to tame another dragon, and even if I was, it probably wouldn't work. The only reason Michael listened to me at all was because he was a moron."

"Dragons live for an exceptionally long time," One began, "and I'm willing to bet one as powerful as Mikhail would still be around."

"I don't know about that. Sure he's strong, but he's kind of an idiot. I wouldn't be surprised if he managed to get himself killed while I was gone."

"Be that as it may, he remains our best bet," One said. "He's faced the Flower before, and you already have a good relationship with him. Like you said, even if we do manage to find another dragon, it would be nearly impossible to convince it to help us."

"You've really thought this through, huh?"

"How else would I have passed four days of complete isolation? So, do you know where to find him?"

Mikhail only ever had one home, and he was far too sentimental to leave it. If he was still alive, he probably made his home somewhere around their old shack in the Land of Seas. Still, she was having a hard time bringing herself to trust this new One. She had to play her cards close to her chest until she knew what One's motives were.

"I have a pretty good idea," Zero answered. "Break us out of here and I'll take you."

One raised a skeptical eyebrow at her fellow inmate. "And what's stopping you from abandoning me once I do? If I don't know where Mikhail is, you can leave me behind with no way to track you down. You'd be leaving me for dead."

"Hey, I'm decent enough at killing without any powers, but I'm not dumb enough to throw away a perfectly good mage for no reason. As long as you're trying to fight the Flower, I'm not leaving you anywhere."

"I'm glad to hear it, but I still want to know where he is," One said. "You'll have to forgive me for not immediately trusting the woman that put a sword through my skull."

"Alright, so you'll break me out if I tell you where I think he is?"

" _And_ if you answer my question. Remember? I asked how the intoners came to be."

"Right, right. That one's a pretty short story. I died in prison with a few other girls, and the Flower took over my body as I passed. I tried to carve it out of me when I realized what it was, but it split off into pieces and took the forms of the other girls to protect itself. I was too weak to kill you when you were first born, and your false memories turned you against me before I could tell you what you were. I didn't think I could reason with you, so I figured I would just kill you instead. You know how the rest goes."

The explanation seemed to cause One a great amount of pain. Zero had never been one for philosophy, but she couldn't imagine what it must be like to discover that she was nothing but a pawn for some entity that cared nothing for her.

"I… I see. That… makes sense. And the dragon?"

"I think Mikhail is living somewhere in the Land of Seas. We hid out in an abandoned shack there while I recovered from losing my arm to Gabriel. If I'm right, he's enough of a softy to stick around and try to protect it or something. At the very least he probably pays it a visit every now and then."

After only a brief moment, the blonde nodded, having apparently accepted what Zero said as fact. "Okay."

"That's it? You're just going to believe me? What happened to not trusting me?"

"I don't trust you," One said, "but your story adds up. I always wondered why you attacked Five first when Two's strength made her the greatest threat among us. I spent hours upon hours trying to find the logic behind it, but I see now that it was meaningless. There was no plan at work, no hidden reasoning known only to the first of us; she just happened to be the closest one to you."

One's lips curved into a small, incredulous smile. "That single-minded simplicity… it's very much like you, Zero." The woman took a deep breath and rose to her feet. "Do you remember how many guards were outside when you were brought here?"

"I only saw two by the entrance," Zero said, "and there were three in the patrol that found me."

"It hasn't changed, then. In that case, we should look at this as if we plan to face a minimum of five fully armored opponents."

"What? You mean we're escaping _now_? I thought you lost your powers."

"You misunderstand. My intoner powers are gone, but I still have all of the skills I acquired throughout my past life."

"Then why stay?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was waiting for you?"

A fair point. "Alright, let's say you can escape. Zero said. "What's your plan?"

"There's no point in waiting," One said. "The only thing they feed you here is bread and a bit of water. I'll only grow weaker as time goes on, and I suspect this vessel is suboptimal for combat even at its peak."

She didn't know the half of it. "So, five enemies… What do you have in mind?"

One had thought about this more than a few times in the past days. Blowing a hole in the exterior stone wall would give them direct access to the outside, but the open ground left them open to being surrounded. With their disadvantage in both might and numbers, that would certainly spell their doom. That left them with only one choice.

"We have to draw them inside and fight them here," One said. "Facing a larger force in a narrow passage that mitigates their advantage is fundamental strategic theory. If we can lure them into the corridor between the cells, we would only have to deal with one or two of them at a time. On top of that, I'd have a chance to kill all of them with only a single spell. It's without a doubt our best option."

"It's a decent enough plan, but how are we supposed to get them in here?"

One raised a hand toward the metal bars of her cell and closed her eyes. Within moments, sigils of light marked with the ancient language of the Cathedral City appeared in the air before her, rotating and contracting in place. Once they had finished their motions, a great force blasted the metal bars of their cells across the room, creating a terrible racket of metallic clanking that could not have possibly been missed.

She immediately buckled, her eyes wide and body drained of energy. One had assumed her new body was incapable of managing the amount of magic that her intoner form could, but this level of strain had far exceeded her expectations. At this rate, the offensive magic she had planned to use next could very well be beyond her ability.

Zero saw One's state and rushed out of her cell, picking up a broken fragment of the prison bars on her way. The building's entrance opened, and the two exterior guards rushed inside. Zero advanced toward them, moving to an area where the prison cells' bars were intact enough to serve as the choke point she needed. Adrenaline surged through her as she neared the range of the lead guard's pike, a white-knuckle grip on her own improvised weapon. The guard opened with a predictable thrust, looking to use his weapon's range to his advantage. Zero saw through the elementary attack and batted the pike away, taking care to keep her grip close to her body so as to avoid striking the surrounding prison bars. Stepping forward to close the distance between them, she brought her rod back across her body, delivering a devastating blow to the guard's helmet and ringing it like a bell.

The guard dropped his weapon and fell to the ground, disoriented beyond words and struggling to find any bearing through the pain and scrambling of his senses. His compatriot quickly took his place, attacking and falling in a similar manner. Not wanting to risk them recovering, Zero took the first knight's pike and used it to finish them both. She had hoped she could go more than a day before she killed anyone in this new life, but it seemed that was a little too ambitious.

"The patrol could be here any moment," Zero called through labored breaths. "If you can't move, I'm leaving you."

One trembled on her hands and knees, trying to muster what strength remained in her muscles. She eventually forced herself to her feet, readying herself for her next spell.

"I need your shoulder," she admitted. "If you do that much, I can keep using my magic."

What a fucking joke. They weren't going to get anywhere if she had to carry her the entire time. This had never been a choice worth consideration for her. In situations like this, there was never even a choice; she did what kept her alive and never looked back.

"You're walking on your own or I'm leaving you here. It's your choice." Before One could answer, the sound of rustling metal suits entered earshot. Zero picked up one of the dead guards' pikes and readied herself, bracing for what was looking to be a three-on-one fight.

The knights from the patrol group entered the doorway and readied themselves. This group seemed much more cautious than the last; perhaps the sight of their fallen comrades had given them pause.

Zero leveled her own pike against them, trying to visualize her path to victory. It was a decent weapon to have, but it was also long and unwieldy for someone of her stature. Since the patrol knights had pikes of their own, the core advantage they usually offered, reach, was not something she was afforded. On top of that, the tight quarters meant she couldn't turn the weapon too far to either side without hitting something

That meant if she missed a thrust, the fight was over. If they passed her guard, the fight was over. The only way for Zero to get out of this alive was to kill with her first strike, and replicate that success with the other two. It was a tall order, but doable for someone as experienced as her; she just needed to find a gap in their armor that she could attack.

Her eyes frantically searched for something she could exploit, but before she could find an opening, a guard pointed his weapon at her and sprinted forward, showing no signs of stopping. This was easily the worst case scenario. Zero could avoid getting impaled, but she had no room to dodge his charge. With his weight and speed, the best she could hope for was getting out of this with a few broken bones.

Before Zero even had time to fear for her life, a bolt of lightning arced past her and pierced through the soldiers. It was a low level spell, but the men in their plate armor never stood a chance against it. All three had been felled in an instant.

Zero turned back to One, who was once again gasping for breath on all fours.

"We can get through this," she heaved. "But we need to work _together_."

Even now she hesitated. This was not her way. In any other situation she would seize the opportunity and run. She knew nothing of this time, but people never really changed. She had gotten by on her own easily enough before. If she kept a low profile, she could have an uneventful trip all the way to the Land of Seas. One's magic had been helpful, but it probably wouldn't be needed from here on out, and it sure as hell wasn't worth having to drag her around like a corpse every time she used it. Zero's choice was clear.

How then, did she find herself propping One up by her shoulder? She asked as she took the very steps she questioned, and still no answer came. She carried her old enemy outside, facing the red sky once again.

Together, One and Zero would trudge through miles of ruinous wastelands with only one question resounding in their minds:

 _What would they say if they could see me now?_

* * *

 **A/N: Just in case people are unfamiliar with the material, I'm trying to depict One in her adult body from Utahime Five since Gabriel is dead and she isn't tethered to his existence anymore. This one took way longer to write than I expected, and I ended up scrapping it entirely twice. I also had most of the next chapter written before I decided on starting this one, so the next chapter should come out much sooner. Caim chapter up next. Thanks for reading.**


	3. New Beginnings

"The goddess is no longer safe here; she must return to her castle before the Empire returns in force. The Union will not tolerate this foolishness any longer!"

Caim stared in awe of the fuming elder as his voice brought the throne room to a standstill. He was able to hear the voices from his chamber and knew more or less what was going on, but seeing it in person was another matter entirely. There was not a man in the realm in that would dare speak to his father in such a tone, much less while insulting the security of his kingdom. Perhaps the hierarch of the Union truly carried enough authority to throw his weight around in such a manner, or perhaps he was a suicidal fool. It was becoming harder to tell by the moment.

King Gaap was a mighty man in all respects. His towering stature dwarfed that of most other men, his face, while not unattractive, was fierce enough to teach even the lesser races fear. His blade had not seen the battlefield since he brought Ipris to heel, but few doubted that it remained among the most deadly in the land. His rage was feared by the spirits themselves, and everyone present was relieved that he had the temperance to hold it back.

"I'm not sure if you're aware, Verdelet," the king began, "but my son and marshal drove off an imperial force three times their size not even a month ago. Can anyone in your Union say the same?"

"A fluke of a battle won under questionable circumstances," the hierarch answered. "The Union clashes with the Empire almost daily, yet I've not once heard of the Red Eyes retreating."

"Caerleon stands victorious all the same. Meanwhile, your mighty Union is stretched thin across nearly all of Midgard. The paltry force you have guarding the very castle you would send her to didn't even arrive in time to do their duty. I fail to see how her situation would be improved in your custody."

The elder gathered himself, refocusing on his main point. "Every day the goddess has spent here has been an insult to all of the women that gave their lives in her position in the past. Hers is a sacred duty, and it is being defiled by childish defiance and selfishness."

"Asherah is giving her life to the seal, just as they all did. If that is not enough for you, then perhaps your gods aren't as righteous as you claim, old man."

The elder man shook with rage at the king's comment, gripping his staff tightly enough for his veins to appear as though they would pop out of his hand entirely. Caim could tell this discussion was going to become far more heated if he let the hierarch speak. He raised his own voice, fighting against his aching body the entire time.

"I understand this is a matter of great importance to you, Hierarch, but I would much prefer the discussion be put off until at least after the banquet. Our enemies are beyond the castle walls, not within them, and we have had the rare fortune of winning a decisive victory against them. It wouldn't do for a celebration of our people's heroism to be spoiled by foul moods, now would it?"

The king and hierarch traded glances, subtly acknowledging the prince's point. "Very well," the hierarch said, "but we _will_ continue this conversation."

Caim and Gaap watched silently as Verdelet left the throne room, paying no mind to the numerous ill-intended mutterings that spilled from his mouth as he departed.

"The Hero of Caerleon graces us with his presence!" Gaap called, turning his attention to his son. "What are you doing out of bed? You should be well rested for tonight's festivities."

"I just came to check on the commotion," he said. "To be honest, I'm finding it hard to stay put while the rest of the castle is brimming with so much energy."

A playful smile lifted the king's mustache. "If you're having so much trouble staying in bed, maybe you should find yourself a maiden to keep you there. Your mother has been pestering me about grandchildren lately, and I have to say I am of a similar mind."

"You still have a long reign ahead of you, Father. I won't have to consider women for quite some time, I'm sure."

"A long reign, is it?" Gaap questioned with a hearty chuckle. "I'm glad at least someone thinks so. Nonetheless, you will need an heir, and I'm sure every maiden in Caerleon is eagerly awaiting the day Prince Caim shows interest in anything other than his sword."

"Tease me all you like, my sword is one of the reasons we're preparing for a feast instead of a siege."

"So I've heard. I'm told you killed more than even the mighty Ipris himself. It's good to see all those hours you spent flailing about on the balcony went to good use. I always feared the shadows you were swinging at would get the best of you one of these days."

Caim rolled his eyes as his father erupted into a fit of laughter. Sensing he wasn't going to stop anytime soon, the prince tried to think of another diversion to occupy his time.

Unfortunately, his mother was likely bogged down with preparations for the banquet, and Inuart and Ipris wouldn't be arriving for a few hours yet. As much as he wanted to defy his father's suggestion of seeking the company of women, it seemed he was left no choice but to find Furiae and Shirley.

A minute's walk through the castle's narrow stone halls saw the prince to the door of Furiae's bedchambers, where he was met by a familiar voice.

"Prince Caim!"

His name was accompanied by the sound of freshly washed sheets and pillows falling to the floor. Shirley had always been about as skittish as she was energetic, and this was especially true when it came to him.

"You're supposed to be in bed. What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you, actually. I've been kind of-" his words drifted off as he turned to his maidservant and took in her disheveled appearance. "Goodness, Shirley, are you alright? You look like you haven't slept in days."

"And to think you aren't engaged yet," she teased. A stern look from the prince promptly scared away the playful façade, and the blonde girl found herself owing an answer. She hesitated, casting her eyes away from her longtime friend. Their relationship had always been tempered by the professionalism demanded by their respective stations, but since the riots she had promised that she would be as open with him as she possibly could. It was the only way she could get better.

"I… The nightmares…" The young woman took a deep breath and collected herself. "I didn't get any sleep," she finally managed. "No matter what I tried, I couldn't stop seeing his face."

Without saying a word, Caim reached out and took Shirley into his arms, pulling her close to him. Fear and humility saw her resist for a brief moment before she surrendered herself and sank into him completely. He kept her there as she quietly heaved in his embrace, the warmth of fresh tears spreading across his shirt.

Caim didn't put much faith in any gods, but there were times he wondered if this was some form of divine punishment. He had spent countless hours cultivating strength to defend his kingdom from the monsters that plagued Midgard, yet fate saw fit to make him turn his blade on servants and soldiers he had known since he was a child before any beast. Through all of that, keeping those closest to him alive still wasn't enough. While they were spared violent and gruesome deaths at the hands of the Red Eyes, Furiae and Shirley had been assaulted in other ways. Both were pressured by the elf Nero to engage in explicit acts, and when his advances were rebuffed, the bastard took advantage of the chaos of the riots to lock Shirley away and force himself on her.

All of this right under his nose.

When she was discovered naked and defiled in the aftermath of the chaos, Caim brought all that remained of the castle's forces to bear on foreign duo, but they managed to escape. He had failed to protect her, he had failed to bring those who wronged her to justice, and every time she came to him, he failed to heal the wounds that lingered in her heart. For all his strength, he was powerless when it mattered most. All he could do was hold her as she cried and pray the next night wouldn't bring more of the same.

There used to be more than this heavy silence. In the beginning, there were admissions of pain and empty promises that Caerleon would bring the strangers to justice. Caim had come to know very well how Shirley now suffered, how aware of her own vulnerability she had become. She lacked the skill and power to properly defend herself from even other women, and that knowledge brought with it constant fear. Any of the dozens of people in the castle could violate her in the same way if they had a mind for it. To most it was nothing more than an unlikely fantasy, but to her it was a nightmare that could very easily be revisited.

Caim was a friend, but with his strong body and martial skill, he was among the greatest potential threats to her safety there was. It had taken weeks of daily visits for her to regain some semblance of comfort when alone with him, and even longer for her to accept his touch. That he could comfort her like this only six months later was nothing short of a miracle to him.

"Thank you, Caim. I hope I didn't keep you overlong."

"Don't worry about that," the prince said, releasing the girl. "I only wish I could give you more than just my time."

"Your time is enough, I promise. But, if you really want to do more, I'd like you to forget about those two. I've noticed how much you trouble yourself over them, and I won't have it. I know you want justice every bit as much as me, but One and Nero are long gone, and they aren't likely to return. It's best if you just let it go."

Her suggestion fell on deaf ears. "By the way, where's Furiae?" Caim asked. "I thought she would be with you."

"I mean it, Caim!" It wasn't like him to try to avoid subjects like this. Shirley knew it could only mean this was a real issue for him. If only she could find a way to bypass his stubborn nature and get him to listen…

"How much joy do you think it would bring the elf to know that he plagues your thoughts, even now?"

As the words left her mouth, the warm aura around her prince quickly turned cold. Kindness had left his face, and gaze passed straight through her. Did she say something wrong? Had she offended him? How could the man she just had in her arms suddenly feel so far away?

He spent a moment considering his response, and when he was ready, his focus returned to her. "I appreciate your concern, but know that I have pain I must face alone just as you do." His blue eyes bored into her as he spoke, and for the first time since the riot, she found herself face to face not with the kind and noble prince of Caerleon, but with the vengeful warrior that had laid a legion at his feet. "One and Nero will not be forgiven so long as Caerleon stands, and there is no blade in the kingdom more suited to meting out the justice they deserve than my own."

He knew it was selfish, that this refusal made him a hypocrite. He had told her he would do anything for her, but vengeance was the one thing he could not concede. He wanted to help her, but more than that, he wanted to take the elf's smug face in his hands and break his skull over a rock. While One was perhaps a less egregious case, he was resolved to ensure that Nero died a horrible death, and all the virtue in the world wouldn't change his mind.

She didn't understand, but she knew better than to press such a grim topic on a day of celebration. "As you say, My Prince. If you're still looking for her, Princess Furiae is in the wardrobe preparing her outfit for tonight."

The sudden formality was a blow to the prince in and of itself, even if she had not responded to him directly. "Already?"

"Lord Inuart is to be in attendance, lest you've forgotten," she said through a mischievous smile. "I know she'll always be a child in your eyes, but the world sees her as a woman now, and a betrothed one at that."

"I'd almost forgotten," Caim said. "I suppose it was always expected, but for them to be officially engaged… the whole thing seems like it's happening too fast."

The maid picked up her dropped laundry, her face now concealed behind the mass of bedding. "Women have been married earlier. We should be grateful we've had so much time with her."

"What are you talking about? Won't you be going with her when she leaves to live in his estate?" he asked, opening his sister's door for the encumbered maid.

"If she chooses to take me. However, she's not the only royal in Caerleon. If you or the king and queen wish for me to stay, I will. At any rate, the days we all spent together will soon be coming to an end."

A bittersweet truth to be certain. Caim never expected this chapter of his life to last forever, but he wished it had a few more pages than this.

* * *

"A toast! To Caerleon's brave defenders!"

King Gaap raised a jeweled goblet filled with the kingdom's finest wine, and the nobility of the land met his toast in unison. It had been ages since Caim had seen the dining hall this lively. Drunken shouts and howls filled the castle as old friends and strangers alike gathered to celebrate the kingdom's successful defense of its borders, gorging themselves as if they had no plans to see the morning.

Caim lifted his cup with the rest of his peers, but the crimson liquid splashed upon closed lips. The edge from recent events had not left him, and the prince could not find it within himself to risk drinking when catastrophes fell upon Caerleon like rain. This was especially true with so many of the kingdom's prominent figures gathered in one place. An assassin could strike, the red eyes could reemerge, the Empire's scattered army could return to their soil… whatever came, Caim could not fail his kingdom again.

"Not drinking?" Inuart asked from the chair next to him, halfway through his own cup. "Isn't there a law against being stiff at your own party?"

"Leave him be, Inuart." Furiae scolded from his side. "Are you well, Caim?"

"I'm fine," he said. "I just don't feel like losing myself in drink tonight."

"Caerleon's valiant prince spares not even a moment for merriment in his eternal vigil." Inuart reached for Caim's wine and added it to his own portion. "Your sacrifice will not be forgotten, My Prince."

The prince cracked a smile at his friend's jest, sinking just a bit further into his chair. "I just hope father is doing well. I only know a fragment of the burden he shoulders."

"He seems fine to me," Inuart said. "Though with the headache he'll be waking up with, I doubt I could say the same tomorrow."

"Speaking of headaches," Caim said, "the Union's hierarch is here. It seems they want their goddess back."

"Why?" asked Inuart. "The goddess's castle is only a two day's ride from here, and I'm pretty sure castle Caerleon is more heavily fortified. It's not like she'll be any more secure."

"When I heard them speak earlier, it had to do with the integrity of her station. Apparently they don't think she's doing a good enough job suffering."

"That's probably not it," Furiae said in a hushed voice. "I heard from Shirley that there are rumors about the goddess among the servants. They say she's consumed by lust, and that father often visits her chambers to make his bed with her. There's no doubt word has reached the Union."

Caim hadn't heard a more preposterous rumor in all his life. King Gaap was devoted to his queen, and even should he choose to seek another woman, he could do much better than someone as frail as the goddess.

"Asherah was never popular to begin with," Caim said, "and that discontent spread to our father when he agreed to house her. It shouldn't surprise anyone that people are willing to spread falsehoods about them."

"Even if that's so, the Union can't just sit back while their image is dragged through the dirt. I'd have expected them to protest sooner, to be honest," Inuart said. "I mean, imagine if the person in the position you revered the most was a wh-"

Caim lifted a hand in front of Inuart's face in a gesture to silence him, his eyes focused on something in the distance. Inuart obeyed, following his friend's gaze to one of the massive windows of the dining room. Moments passed, but he could not find what had caught the prince's attention. "Is something wrong, Caim?"

"I… I thought I saw something out there."

Inuart looked out the window again, but he saw nothing in the night sky. He was about to give up, but the object of their search found them instead. Before anyone could tell what was happening, the roar of the dining hall's chatter was overtaken by shattering stone that cracked like thunder. A terrible force knocked the trio back, and dust dominated the space around them.

Caim rushed to gather himself, his senses flooded by the pain of being thrown across the room and the screams of those caught under the rubble of the collapsed ceiling. He couldn't see well enough to know what had caused the commotion, but he needed to get everyone as far away from it as possible.

The prince began to drag himself along the floor, still too shaken to stand. Furiae and Inuart had to be close; as long as he drew breath he would work to see them through this. Soon enough, the image of Furiae curled in Inuart's arms came into view. He couldn't know their injuries, but at the very least they were alive. Now if he could only find his parents. Caim raised himself to a knee, and surveyed the area once again.

It was then that the sound came. From beyond the haze and debris, a deafening and alien cry rang through the air. Caim found himself paralyzed by a primal fear as the beast's voice tore through him. Even after it ended, its echo resounded within his head, plaguing him for what felt like an eternity. Then, the revelation.

With only a single flap of its wings, the creature cleared the air, revealing its terrible form to all who were fortunate enough to have held on to their lives. Standing over the corpses of the king and queen was a dragon as black as night. Its frame was long and slim, with a tail the size of the rest of its body. The beast was unnaturally thin, and bones shone clearly through its scaled hide as though it had been starved to the brink of death. For all its features, Caim thought it more likely a demon than any natural beast.

There was no fight to be had. He couldn't imagine what had brought this beast here, but there was nothing in Caerleon that could match it. Caim turned back to his companions and gave them what would be his final orders as their prince.

"Run! You have to go NOW!"

Inuart looked back at his liege, still taken by panic.

"GO!"

The musician shook himself from his fear-induced trance and brought his fiancée to her feet. Without a word, the pair fled the dining hall, not daring to look back and see what horrific fate awaited their prince.

Their frenzied steps sounded throughout the hall, pulling the beast's attention in their direction. The two had gone, but Caim remained on the floor. The dragon's ruby eyes locked onto him, and the prince's heart fell through the floor. He had never felt fear like this. Even when he faced thousands of imperial blades, he held onto his courage. This… this was different… primal. This was the fear of an animal that had come face to face with its predator. This was nature itself screaming at him to flee.

Embers grew in the back of the dragon's throat as it postured itself to breathe. The prince panicked, but where mind failed, instinct prevailed. Every cell in his body dedicated itself to his escape, forcing the young man to his feet and away from danger. Before he knew it, he found himself in a mad dash toward the nearest window, caring not what damage the jump may do to him. An overwhelming surge of flame and hot air rushed behind the prince, but it would not find him. Caim braced himself and broke through the glass, gravity pulling him out of the path of the dragonfire that engulfed the dining hall. Ordinarily he could manage a fall of this distance relatively safely, but the rushing air from the fireball had misaligned his body for the landing. The prince could only hope for the best as he plummeted to the earth below.

Caim opened his eyes to completely different scenery. The night sky had been replaced by a stone ceiling, and what should have been scorched earth beneath him was instead a soft, warm bed. Only when the disoriented prince fully regained his faculties did it strike him that he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there.

His eyes raced to gather information about his surroundings, but they would not have a chance to finish.

"You're awake!"

Before he could even look to see who had spoken, a young brunette woman fell on top of him in tears. He knew from instinct alone that his assailant was Furiae, his arms wrapping around her before he could even think.

"Furiae, you're alive… how?"

"I should be asking you the same thing. We didn't think you made it out of the dining hall. Everyone else that was there… Mom and Dad… they're all gone."

Caim's stomach flipped as the image of his parents' mangled bodies returned to his mind. He had seen men eviscerated on the battlefield, but watching his own parents be crushed to death had a uniquely profound effect on him.

Yet for all the nausea the image of their corpses brought, he couldn't match Furiae's tears or trembling voice. Instead, his heart had seemingly gone numb. All of the pain and sorrow he expected to be overcome by was entirely absent, replaced by the guilt he felt over his own apathy.

"How did you make it out?"

"I jumped out of one of the windows. I don't really remember much after that though."

"I'd imagine not," Furiae giggled, wiping away her tears. "You've been unconscious for over a day now. You must have taken quite a hit your head. How are you feeling?"

"I'm in a bit of pain, but I don't think it's anything serious. Tell me, where are we?"

"That's right, you would have been asleep for the entire ride here. We're in the Castle of the Goddess. The hierarch had to take Asherah back to Union territory and insisted we accompany him. Ah, that reminds me. He wanted to know when you woke up. I'll send for him, so you stay there and get some more rest."

The Prince sat up and swung his legs off of the bed. "It's alright. Just tell me where he is and I'll go."

"Caim, please, you're injured."

"I told you I'm fine, Furiae," he said with a warm smile. "If you really want to help me, let me know where I can find something to eat. I'm absolutely starving."

The princess wanted to insist, but the last thing her brother needed right now was an argument. "I guess you would be. The hierarch is in the Great Hall with one of the Union's generals. Go meet him and I'll send Shirley over with a hot meal. I'm sure she'd be glad to see you well."

After a long embrace the two went their separate ways, the prince anxiously traversing the halls of the mighty fortress. Conveniently for him, the Castle of the Goddess wasn't far from Caerleon, and he had visited it numerous times in his youth to meet with foreign scholars for his studies. These walls were nearly as familiar to him as those of his own home. Before long he was in the great hall, met with the sight of the hierarch and another man hunched over a war table wearing some of the grimmest expressions he had ever seen.

"I'm told you wanted to see me?" Caim called, catching the pair's attention.

"Prince Caim, you're awake, and well enough to walk it seems," the hierarch noted. "Come join us. We have much to discuss."

"Mind your manners Verdelet," the other man said. "Lest you have already forgotten, we are in the company of a _king_."

Words that Caim had not expected to hear for many years to come. At only eighteen, he was king and he was already being called to do his duty. Hierarch Verdelet was a representative of the Union. If he wished to discuss official business, Caim was obliged to comply. Caim took a closer look at the stranger and quickly identified him. Blond hair, a full beard, and twin short swords sheathed at his waist. There was no mistaking it.

"To think we're joined by the Twin Blade General… this must be serious."

"I see my reputation precedes me," the blond-haired man said, "Or perhaps you're just particularly well informed. Either way, it is a pleasure, King Caim."

"Likewise, General Oror. Now, what is it you needed me for?"

"First," the general began, "I would like for you to recount the attack on the castle. Plenty of people were there, but none of them were as close to the action as you. There may be a crucial detail we're missing that only you can provide."

"There isn't much to say. A black dragon broke through the roof and killed almost everyone at the feast. My sister Furiae fled with Lord Ipris's son, and I jumped out of a window."

"That would explain why we found you outside," Verdelet said. "You'll be pleased to know that Lord Inuart survived the attack along with most of your service staff. However, the king and queen and many nobles are still unaccounted for. Since you were there, we wanted to confirm-"

"They're all dead. If they weren't burned then they were crushed by either the rubble or the beast itself."

"Then it is as we feared," Oror lamented. A solemn silence fell on the group as the reality of the situation came to light. "However, we are not without recourse. As tragic as the circumstances are, you are now Caerleon's king, and as such, you wield the power of negotiation for your kingdom. That being said, regardless of how our discussion goes, given recent events, there are things our leaders must inform you of in confidence."

"I see. And what was it that you wanted to 'negotiate'?"

The hierarch took a deep breath. "We would ask of you what we asked of your father. Commit Caerleon's armies to the Union, that we may fight the Empire together."

Gaap was always cooperative, as was necessary when housing the Union's goddess, but he had never fully pledged Caerleon to the Union as a member. Caim was sure his father had his reasons, but at present, Caim couldn't think of a reason to refuse membership. This attack had effectively guaranteed the nation's death. The Red Eye plague ravaged their population months prior, and now almost every noble and ranking official in Caerleon had been killed in one fell swoop. They would recover in time, but they could no longer stand against the Empire alone.

"Very well, Caerleon shall join the ranks of the Union. Our armies are yours."

"It feels wrong to thrust this decision upon you in the wake of such tragedy, but I assure you that you're making the right choice for both your kingdom and your people. Gods willing, you can claim vengeance on the Empire for the murder of your parents."

A curiously worded statement. "A dragon killed my parents, not the Empire."

"They are one and the same," Oror said. "How often do you hear of dragons coming down from the highlands to attack a single building and leave? How often is their target the monarchs of a nation that managed to withstand an imperial assault not even a week prior?"

"I admit it's suspicious, but for the Empire to have dragons under their command…"

"It's unbelievable, I know, but the Union has known about this for some time. At first, our soldiers were finding the bodies of dragons bound and mutilated in old ruins. We didn't know why they were being hunted, but we went to great lengths to find out. Sure enough, a few interrogations revealed that the empire has been hunting and taming dragons, and testimony from imperial defectors corroborated it."

Caim couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why wouldn't you make this known? If the rest of the independent states knew that the Empire was going to bring dragons to their borders, they'd flock to the Union in droves. All of Midgard would want to see this threat stopped before it reached their own homelands."

"Maybe so, but we fear it is more likely that they would submit to the Empire without a fight. Winning this war is a daunting enough task; we cannot risk the Empire growing any stronger than it already is."

It was a good point. If they revealed that the Empire had tamed dragons, there would undoubtedly be cowards that would refuse to rise against them. "I expect this is what you want me to keep this secret?"

"Indeed. Can you do that?"

"Of course."

"So can I," a feminine voice called. The approaching woman was instantly recognized as Shirley, who had arrived with Caim's meal. "We've still some time until the cooks prepare the next meal, so you'll have to make do with rations from the barracks. I hope that's alright."

"It's fine, thank you," Caim said. "You can leave the tray here."

The blonde placed the tray on a nearby table and left the room as if there was nothing out of place at all.

Oror and Verdelet glared at Caim, both silently asking the same question.

"Don't worry about Shirley. To trust me is to trust her as well." As always, the sight of his old friend brought up memories of her attacker and the rage that accompanied them. This time though, they could prove to be quite useful. The Prince scanned the map on the war table, his gaze fixing on the forests marked 'Niflheim'.

"So, does the Union have a plan to combat the dragons?"

"Nothing concrete yet," Oror answered. "We figure if the Empire can bring them down with conventional military tactics, we can too. It will likely be more difficult when you consider that we'll be facing the beasts amidst pitched battles with the Empire instead of hunting them in isolation, but we're working on a few ideas that seem promising."

"I see. In that case, I may know something that can be of use. Six months ago two vagrants called One and Nero were welcomed as guests in Caerleon. Nero, an elf, claimed that he and his partner had warded off dragons by using crossbow bolts coated in his blood. From what he said, it seems elf blood acts as a form of poison to dragons and weakens them drastically. If we could secure the cooperation of an elf tribe, we may be able to replicate the strategy."

"Even if this is true, the elves have abstained from human conflicts longer than any nation of the Union has stood," Verdelet said. "They will not forsake their treaties of neutrality lightly."

The general stroked his beard as he stared at the war table. "What Verdelet says is true. The elves will likely not agree to aid us in this conflict, especially not in such an obscure manner. Even if they would, I'm not sure we could spare the manpower to send guarded envoy to each of their tribes."

"General, we may not even need the allegiance of the tribes at all. If we can convince even a small number of individuals to aid our cause independent of the tribes' ruling it could turn the entirety of the war in our favor."

"The king is right," Verdelet said. "The Empire has already reached the territory of the eastern elf tribes. Neutral or not, unease surely stirs in the heart of many a young elf."

Oror took a moment to consider a plan of action. "Since you're so confident, King Caim, perhaps Caerleon could spare the men and supplies needed to make the journey to the forests of Niflheim. I know your kingdom is in a precarious position at the moment, but this could prove an invaluable opportunity. Can you perform this service for the Union?"

A menacing grin overtook the young king's face. "I'll… make the journey myself."

"Yourself?" Verdelet questioned. "Are you sure that's wise? So many of Caerleon's nobility have died that the ruling class has surely fallen into chaos. Your kingdom needs its king, now more than ever."

"What my kingdom needs is a skilled administrator. I am renowned among my people as a fighter, but unfortunately that is all I am. If Caerleon is to be seen through this crisis intact, it will not be by my leadership. I will return home and appoint a council to oversee the recovery effort and maintain relations with the Union in my absence."

"King Caim, are you certain the measures you're taking aren't too drastic?" Oror pressed. "With all due respect, it seems to me that you may simply be running away from your duties as ruler."

"Is it commonplace for the Union to greet its new member states by telling their kings how to rule their kingdoms?" Caim asked. "If so then I may be inclined to reconsider just how cooperative Caerleon is to be with our newfound allies."

"Of all the arrogant-" The hierarch had exploded at this comment with energy unthinkable for one of his age, but had been signaled by the general to desist.

Caim and Oror traded prolonged glares before the general broke the general spoke up. "If this is what you think is best, we'll proceed as you described."

"Good. I'll return home with Furiae and the rest of my people tomorrow. You'll receive word from Caerleon as soon as the regency council is able to send it. Gods willing, we'll tear the Empire's dragons right out of the sky. Now, is there anything else you needed me for?"

"No, we can handle the rest. Feel free to get some rest; you'll need it for the journey you have ahead of you."

The general and hierarch watched in silence as Caim grabbed his tray and left the great hall.

"What a curious fellow." Oror said. "You visited Caerleon regularly to check on the goddess, did you not Verdelet? Did you know much of Caim before today?"

"He was rather withdrawn for the most part, but even then he seemed a mild-mannered and thoughtful young man. I see now he's just as impulsive and hot-headed as his father."

"Perhaps, but that didn't seem like impulse to me. Didn't you notice? The moment that servant of his walked in it was like he became another person. I've seen those eyes before. Whatever he's after, he's wanted it for a long time. It's probably for the better we let him loose than keep him penned up here ready to explode. I only regret he had to lie about a solution to our dragon problem to make it happen."

"No, that part might be true. Though, how he claims to have come to possess such knowledge is… troubling."

"What? More of your church secrets old man?"

"I'm afraid so. But fret not. No matter what terrors reveal themselves, the gods are on our side."

* * *

 **A/N: I live. Previous author's note about being almost done with the chapter ended up being wildly inaccurate. I plan on releasing future chapters in a much more timely manner. Thanks for reading.**


	4. Blood Moon

An enraged goblin let out one last defiant cry as cold steel cleaved through its body, rending flesh and splitting bone as it passed. Its small form stood no chance against the sheer mass of the king's weapon. Caim looked up to see his kill was matched by his opponents. A bloodcurdling scream resounded through the forest as a goblin spear found the gap in the armor of one of his knight escorts, opening a gash in his throat. He was the last of them. Caim was alone.

The spearman charged, eager to claim another victim. Caim batted the attacker across the head with the flat of his blade, crushing the beast's skull and no doubt inflicting mortal injury. Such tactics preserved his edge, but in the face of a goblin pack, his demise would more likely come from the wearing down of his body as opposed to any of his equipment. His guard detail, few though they were, had already succumbed to their overwhelming numbers and he was next in line.

Two more swings of his longsword brought with them two more goblin corpses, but just as Caim was beginning to find security in his reach advantage over the small creatures, a stone struck his rib cage with devastating force, flooding the king's senses with pain. The thrower took advantage of the opening and plunged its stone knife into Caim's leg, but quickly found itself without a head. That had been the last of the goblins that had charged out onto the open trail, but he was certain there had been more. The ever present foliage of the Silent Forest had proven to be more foe than friend, and could house dozens more of the tiny beasts.

The king's eyes scanned the surrounding brush, looking for even the slightest trace of unnatural movement among the leaves. Several moments of uneasy silence passed, and his search had yielded nothing. Though unconvinced that he was safe, he had to stop the bleeding from his new wound. Caim looked over the newly made battleground, eventually settling on the thing that had started all of this bloodshed: one of the many half-destroyed wagons of what used to be a merchant caravan. He and his men came upon the scene on their way to the elf tribes and moved to investigate, but were set upon by a horde of goblins waiting in ambush. A cunning strategy, but utterly shameless, as befitting their status as a lesser race.

Caim rummaged through the contents of the ransacked wagons, eventually finding some cloth that looked clean enough to wrap his leg with. He sat against the wagon, wincing as he tied his tourniquet, and weighed his options. His mission was vital to the survival and eventual success of the Union in the face of the Empire's dragons, and no matter how difficult the task had become, he had to succeed. His injury was dressed, but it was a very, _very_ temporary solution. By now he was deep in the Silent Forest, much too deep to consider turning back to Caerleon in this state. The villages of Niflheim were likely close, but if he ran into more foes, goblins or otherwise, he would be joining his comrades in an early grave.

It seemed his fate would be determined by whoever found him first; an enemy or a friend. However, this flip of the coin was not entirely up to chance. He could still choose _where_ he would be found. He could stay here, though while he would last longer off his feet, this was an area he now knew the goblins had controlled long enough to stage an ambush. If anyone found him here, it would almost certainly be more goblins. His best option would be to get as close to the elves as possible and pray he was discovered by one of their patrols or hunting parties. Driving his longsword into the ground for support, the king carefully returned to his feet. Steeling himself for the worst, but hoping for the best, Caim limped further down the trail.

Time passed much slower when every other moment was marked with the throbbing pulse of his leg, and the distance felt much greater without company. Pain and heat radiated from the site of the injury, but as uncomfortable as they were, they gave him something to focus on. As he continued, the warmth of his blood spread over the rest of his injured limb. With each cough brought on by his dry throat, he could feel his consciousness begin to slip. The world repeatedly slipped away around him, and when it returned, he couldn't tell how much time had passed. Focusing on the pain was failing him. he was in dire need of motivation, and it didn't take long to find it.

His mind settled on rage, and it sustained him.

The mere thought of that blond elf drawing breath filled him with a uniquely intense fury. The pain faded away, and his body moved as if it were new. When he remembered how hurt, how broken Shirley was when he found her, he felt that he could move mountains to deliver the violent retribution those two deserved.

With his mind refocused and body energized, Caim tried to gauge how much progress he had made since the ambush, but it was ultimately hopeless. His walking speed had likely varied drastically in his exhaustion, and he had lost track of time completely. What he did know was that at some point he had wandered off the well-beaten trail he was following and entered a considerably thicker part of the woods. He was now lost on top of everything else, but at least the trees kept the sun from beating down on him. All he could do was keep pressing forward. There had to be an elf village somewhere in this damned forest, and he was going to find it.

"You there! Human! Declare yourself or this place will be your grave."

A woman's voice. Caim stopped in his tracks, fighting his legs that were seemingly locked in their walking cycle. He couldn't see who was calling out to him, but there wasn't much that could speak so eloquently this far in the wilderness but faeries and elves. He would rather die than be burdened with the company of a faerie.

"I am Caim, King of Caerleon. I have come seeking an audience with the elves of Niflheim."

Silence. It was an unlikely story. Caim couldn't imagine himself being any less confused than his interrogator were he in her shoes.

"You wear no crown, you bring no escort, and you claim to have come in person instead of sending an envoy. I'm sure you understand my skepticism."

"My guards are dead, slain by goblins. You can find their bodies on a trail some ways to southwest." He couldn't be sure he had proceeded in a straight line this whole time, but it was probably accurate… in a general sense. "I too am injured, as you can see. I send no envoy because much of the business I wish to discuss is… personal."

"The only business mankind has ever had with the elves is slaughter. I'm not letting you take another step on our territory without knowing exactly why you have sought us out."

He would prefer not to share this information with everyone who asked, but he couldn't afford to be turned into a pincushion just yet. "I come on behalf of the Union, seeking the elves' help against the Empire."

"We are sworn to neutrality in human conflicts; your Union should know this. I will not tolerate any more lies."

Caim let out a long sigh. "I know… _We_ know. We don't expect any official alliances, but with the Empire approaching elven territory, we're hoping we may find some elves that are more… independently motivated."

Another pause. "I see. Still, that all sounds very official. What of your 'personal' business?"

Her tone had grown significantly less confrontational. Progress.

"I'm also seeking any information on the whereabouts of an elf named Nero."

The energy of the conversation instantly became hostile at the mention of that name. He couldn't see the girl's face, but he was sure she was ready to lose an arrow into him then and there.

"To what end?"

Given the elf's violent tendencies, it wasn't hard to guess the right answer. As luck would have it, this was a sentence he could speak with more conviction than could ever be doubted.

"I'm going to kill him."

Caim turned to the sound of rustling brush to see a lithe elf woman clad in leather hunting garments approaching him, bow slung over her shoulder. She took a closer look at him, brown eyes lingering on his bleeding leg.

"That looks pretty bad," she observed. "Come with me. I can take care of your leg at my house. We'll see if the elder can't pay us a visit and hear what you have to say while we're there."

"Thank you, I'm in your debt..." he looked at her expectantly.

"Arioch. Just Arioch."

A strange name, but one he wouldn't soon forget.

* * *

Caim and Arioch sat across from each other in wicker chairs, the only two that Arioch owned. Hers was a modest home, small and lacking furnishings beyond the bare necessities. Being a hunter, she did have more than a few knives strewn about for skinning and preparing various cuts of meat she likely sold to others, but beyond this, the only things of note in her possession were a wooden chest and the small garden of medicinal herbs she grew in front of her hut. It was from this garden that she had taken a few leaves, and was now preparing to create some form of medicine.

Tired and surrounded by more than enough large knives than was needed to make him uncomfortable, he decided to try and make some conversation with the elf.

"I was getting some pretty nasty looks back there," Caim said. "Are you sure it's alright for you to keep me in your house? I wouldn't want to get you in any kind of trouble with the village."

"It shouldn't be a problem," Arioch said. "But, it's probably for the best if you stay inside with me. The others will tolerate you so long as they know I welcomed you here, but it might cause misunderstandings if you're out and about." Arioch finished grinding her selection of unfamiliar plants in her mortar and pestle and poured a small amount of water into the powder, mixing it with her fingers until it became a thin paste. Leaning toward the seated prince, she motioned to him. "Now, let me see your leg."

Caim complied, untying his bloody tourniquet and rolling up a leg of his pants, exposing his stab wound.

Arioch took a close look at the injury site. "Not as deep as it looked, given all the blood, but this is still going to hurt."

"More than the knife?"

"So I hear." Taking a knee before the seated prince, she scooped a dollop on two fingers and gently spread the paste over the puncture wound.

Caim reeled from the sting, doing his best to control his leg's quivering so she didn't make the wound any worse than it already was. The last thing he wanted was a finger plunging half an inch into his thigh.

Once she was satisfied she had been thorough, Arioch wiped off the excess and wrapped his leg in a fresh bandage. "This should keep it clean and help it heal a bit faster. How did you get this thing anyway? It looks pretty fresh."

"A goblin ambush on the trail my men and I were taking. One of them managed to get close and stuck me."

A look of concern came over Arioch. "They're getting closer, then. I may need to start bringing more arrows when I head out."

Cain tried to think of something to say to keep the conversation flowing, but the tension between them had again left them in silence. "I can't thank you enough for all you're doing for me," he eventually managed. "I know trust doesn't come easily between our people."

"Think nothing of it. This much hospitality is expected for a guest, doubly so if you're royalty like you said."

"Still, just taking me into your home…"

The elf gave him a disapproving look, rising to her feet and putting away her equipment. "I don't mean to be rude, but I think you're placing too much weight on the past. Sure, our people have a bloody history, but _I've_ never been done harm by humans. So long as you're not planning to change that, I don't see why I should be anything but kind to you."

Caim was surprised by the elf's perspective. All his life he had been taught to cling to his nation's history as though it were his very soul, and all his life he had seen his neighbors embroiled in petty wars over slights which had occurred generations ago. The ruling families of Midgard could hold a grudge for an eternity it seemed, and no one could know how many people like Arioch had died over them.

"Do many of your fellow elves share your views on humans?"

"No, I don't think they do," Arioch said through a chuckle. "They'd much rather lose themselves in old stories of human cruelty, even though most of them have never seen one of your kind for themselves. It's not really their fault though. Those are the only kinds of stories that were passed down to our elders, and we haven't had many dealings with humans since to replace them."

"What about you?" Caim asked. "Am I the first human you've ever met?"

"You are. I have to admit I was anxious at first, but you seem nice enough. Am I your first elf?"

Caim did his best to contain the anger that welled within him when he thought of Nero, but he was sure he was doing a poor job of it. Furiae often told him he was terrible at hiding his feelings. "You aren't. Unfortunately my first encounter with an elf was not one I remember fondly."

"I don't doubt it," Arioch said. "Many elves are too afraid of humans to leave our villages. Most of those who do are traders, exiles, or outcasts. Am I right in guessing it was one of the latter?"

"I can't say. I don't know who he was when he left his home, but by the time he came to my castle he was a mercenary... and a scoundrel."

Arioch noticed her guest's mood taking a turn for the grim. "We don't have to talk about it. Whatever happened, I'm glad you kept enough sense to to let me treat your leg. You'd probably lose the whole thing if it got infected."

"...You're right, it's probably for the best."

It was in the mellow quiet that followed that the two noticed voices outside picking up. Some commotion was going on outside, and Caim was worried he had overstayed his welcome. However, before he could even voice his concerns, Arioch laid them to rest.

"Oh, it sounds like the elder has returned."

"Is everything alright?" Caim asked. "I thought you said he wasn't expected back until sundown."

"With all this noise, it seems like something might have happened, doesn't it?" Arioch observed. "You stay here, and stay off your leg. I'll go see what the fuss is about."

Caim paid no heed to his host's request, having been halfway to his feet by the time she finished talking. "I'm going," he insisted. "If you're that worried, you can help me walk." He couldn't make out what the elves were saying, but something in their voices put him ill at ease. A foul energy had taken to the air, and Caim had never been one to ignore his instincts.

The elf stared at the stubborn man in disbelief. "We only just got it dressed. Are you sure you want to agitate it?"

Caim picked up his longsword and started toward the door. "If we're in danger, I want to know now. If it's nothing, I'll come back and you can tie me to the chair for all I care."

Arioch rolled her eyes but ultimately decided not to argue the point. She followed Caim outside, and was met with a terrible sight. The elder and the band he traveled with had returned to the village on horseback, and were surrounded by a crowd of curious members of their village. Their cargo this time was not a haul of freshly bought goods from trade caravans, but several bloodied bodies in various states of mutilation, all slung over the backs of their horses. From what they could see, they carried the bodies of elf, man, and goblin alike.

When her eyes turned to the elder himself, she found him staring down Caim with eyes that seethed with rage. He was well into his years, his hair white and physical strength long gone, but as he was now, she wouldn't have been surprised if he jumped off his horse and tried to strangle Caim with his own leathery tattooed hands.

"Who was harboring this _human_?!" he shouted, his elderly voice unable to capture the gravitas he no doubt wished to convey. "Armed no less! Who is responsible for this?!"

Arioch took a step forward and raised her voice. "It was me. I found him injured in the woods and brought him to my home to treat his wounds."

The old elf's wrinkled brow furrowed, his anger quickly subsiding as he turned to face Arioch. "Arioch, dear child… do you have any idea what you have done? I know your intentions were noble, but the humans of the east sit on the edge of our borders salivating, waiting for us to give them a reason to take all our lands and be rid of us."

The elder turned back to Caim, anger filling his voice once again. "You are of the West are you not?" He gestured to one of the corpses his party had recovered, this one armored and bearing the crest of Caerleon. "This man is one of yours, no? You brought soldiers into our lands that are sworn to abstain from human conflict. The East will surely not allow this transgression to go unanswered."

"What?" Caim asked in disbelief. "My mission to Niflheim is purely diplomatic in nature, I assure you. Yes, my men were armed, but that was solely to protect ourselves against the beasts of the realm."

"Then why did we find the bodies of your men in pools of imperial blood, young warrior?" one of the elder's men asked.

"'Imperial blood'?" Caim parroted. "My men fought a goblin pack, not imperial soldiers."

"A goblin pack contracted to the Empire!" The elder shouted. "And because of this orphan girl's foolishness, our village has now aided and abetted an enemy of the Empire!"

Caim couldn't believe what he was hearing. Caerleon had not heard even the faintest whisper of the Empire taking on the lesser races as mercenary forces. The goblins were savage enough on their own, if they were marching under the three-eyed banner, it was no wonder all the Empire left in their wake was desolation. It seemed being only a recent inductee into the Union had its drawbacks. If they knew about this, he had left before they could enlighten him.

"This is clearly a misunderstanding," Caim said. " _They_ attacked _us_ without so much as a warning, surely they won't blame diplomats for defending themselves from an indiscriminate attack. Gods; they even used a wrecked caravan as bait for an ambush; how is this at all reasonable?"

"If the empire in the east is well known in the realm of men for being 'reasonable', then your race is even more hopeless than I thought." the elder said. "They have jailed and killed merchants and travelers on our borders for months now, claiming they suspect we are providing aid to their enemies. Be it because of fear or disinterest, the West has ignored this state of affairs much to our relief. But now they send you, and in less than a day you and Arioch have made all of the East's paranoid fantasies a reality."

"Is that why you have an elf body?" someone in the crowd of elves asked. "Is the Empire already upon us?"

The elder pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, sighing deeply as he did so. "I'm sorry. Seeing a human in the village distressed me so much that I'd forgotten. Tell me, human, what is your name?"

"I am Caim, king of Caerleon, I come as a representative of the Union."

Another heavy breath from the elder. "King Caim, Arioch, I have been unfair to you. While your actions were beyond reckless, it seems the Empire lacked the patience to wait for just cause to begin their violence against us."

"What does this mean? Are they going to attack us?" The question from another member of the crowd sent the entire village into an uproar. Even through all the noise, Caim could hear some calling for his death or surrender to the Empire. In a bit more time, Arioch began to receive the same consideration.

"Enough!"

The elder demanded silence. While his voice was barely audible over the chaos of the gathering, it was respected enough to bring the entire village to heel.

"We are likely still safe for the time being," the elder continued. "While this elf was likely killed by the Empire's goblins, we cannot know whether it was an intentional act of the Empire or random violence spurred on by beastly impulse. If the easterners truly wanted us dead, they would set upon us in numbers, not pick off lone elves as they strayed from their villages. Besides, seeing as this outsider survived, there are likely no more living witnesses to his presence here. King Caim, was it?"

"Yes."

"Your station is reflective of the importance of your mission here, I take it?"

"Yes."

"Then let us hear what you have to say."

Caim was much more used to these types of negotiations taking place in private, but his job was to secure the help of individual elves, not the village itself. This would work just fine. Caim turned away from the elder to address his true target, the people of Niflheim.

"As you may have heard, I am King Caim of Caerleon, representative of the Union. I have come to Niflheim to discuss two separate matters, one is the official request of the Union, the other is personal in nature."

"Just so we don't waste your time, young king," the elder interjected, "you must know that the elves are sworn to remain uninvolved in human wars. If you ask for our help against the Empire, we cannot give it."

"Yes, but you said it yourself: my purpose here is of significance befitting sending one of my station. The Union has recently become aware that the Empire is engaged in efforts to capture and tame dragons, undoubtedly to aid in their war effort. You must all know by now the brand of indiscriminate evil that the Empire visits upon the lands they conquer. Even in your universal distaste of humans, I am sure you would agree that if the Empire succeeds in its expansion across Midgard, the world will become a much worse place."

Some nods, some muttering, but overall, silence. It wasn't being received as well as he'd have liked, but at least they were still listening. "If they are to be stopped, we must find a way to eliminate that threat. However, the Union lacks the Empire's history, technology, and resources. We have no means to capture dragons of our own, and we dare not waste time trying to sway them to our cause through negotiation or diplomacy. That leaves us with only one viable countermeasure: you."

With that, confusion and debate overtook the villagers. It was clear that not many of them knew what he meant, but one definitely did. The elder dismounted his horse and walked up to Caim, stopping beside him. "I must admit, I am deeply disturbed that a human knows so much of our kind. It may be best if I take over from here." With a subtle nod from Caim, the elder once again addressed his village.

"What he seeks is our blood. The blood of elves is a terrible poison to the dragons; a single arrow coated in it is enough to drive one off. If the Empire of the Cathedral City is seeking the power of dragons, it may not be long before they revisit unspeakable atrocities on our people to ensure we cannot be used against them. As he says, the circumstances are indeed dire. If any of you wish to fight for our people against this evil, follow the human to his Union and lend them your strength. I will not stop you."

The elf elder looked at the ground and remained silent for some time before resuming. "However, if you go, I cannot let you return here. Officially, Niflheim will not aid the Union, and any that do shall be branded as outcasts and exiled."

That was one of the last things Caim wanted to hear. Exile was more than enough to remove any incentive to join the Union in a people so traditional and secluded. "You know what's at stake here. Are you sure this is the decision you want to make?"

"It is," the elder answered. "The elves have endured wars and dragons before, and though it will not be without great loss, we will likely do so again. If we join the Union, however, we forsake our vows of neutrality for the rest of time. Every petty war fought by man will find this place, and _that_ our people cannot survive. Just the same, we cannot shelter you, who has called us to arms against the Empire. If she will have you, I will allow you to stay in the care of Arioch for the night, but I would ask that you leave by midday tomorrow. With luck, the Empire will overlook your encounter with their goblins and tolerate us a while longer."

Not ideal by any means, but at least the elder was allowing them to fight if they so wished. Now all that remained was to see if any were willing to leave. "I understand that exile is not something any of you will choose lightly, but I assure you that this is the best way to save your people from the Empire. You may be able to suffer the goblins, but their true armies will come to your home, just as they came to mine. These men are well equipped, disciplined, and without mercy, and if you wait until their dragons are upon you, Niflheim _will_ burn. If you come with me, your efforts will not only save your home, but the homes of countless others. You will rend the Empire's dragons from the sky, and though you will not be able to enjoy it yourselves, your people's prosperity will be secured. Who among you is willing to make that sacrifice?"

Caim looked out at the crowd with hopeful eyes, but not one of the dozens gathered volunteered. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout, and curse them all to a coward's early death, but if he were to appear desperate now, he would lose all chance of convincing them. All he could do was hope some of them changed their minds before it was too late. "It will be easiest to clear the imperial forces around Silent Forest in numbers. I know it is unreasonable, but I ask that you consider my words and decide by tomorrow, that I may guide you to Union lands when I leave."

He spoke with confidence, but with his leg in its current condition, he needed one of them to come with him or he would likely die.

"You heard the man," the elder concluded. "Remain an elf, or fight for the future of all elves. I trust you will give this your genuine consideration. Now, you said you had a second issue you wished to discuss?"

"Ah, yes." In truth, the gravity of the situation had caused Caim to all but forget his reason for wanting to come to Niflheim in the first place. "This may not be received well, but I believe honesty will serve us all best here. Some months ago, an elf named Nero came to my castle as a guest in the company of a man named One. In his time at my home, he assaulted my sister, kidnapped and raped one of my dearest friends, and incited events that led to a great loss of life. I have come to Niflheim not only to recruit for the Union, but in hopes to learn the whereabouts of this elf that I may kill him."

"Personal indeed," the elder observed. "Unfortunately, we cannot help you. Nero's sister is a notorious criminals among our people, and he vanished shortly after her exile. Neither of them have been seen in elven lands in years. I expected him to remain with his sister, but this new companion... Tell me again, you said he traveled with a man named 'One', yes?"

"Yes, I did."

"...And you're sure it was a man?"

Caim had never thought about it before, but he could see how one could mistaken One for a woman. Apparently, Furiae and Shirley had done so upon first meeting him. However, it was those same two that assured him that One was in fact male. "Yes, I'm positive."

"Then I will need time to review my people's records. Arioch, take this man back to your home and feed him. Once he has eaten, bring him to me, and come armed."

"Armed?" she questioned. "Is something happening?"

"The elf body we found isn't one of ours. You two will be accompanying me south to see if the settlement there knows who he is."

* * *

The Silent Forest was a much different place at night. The rays of the moon and stars could barely breach the ancient forest's canopy, leaving it all but devoid of natural light. Normally, braving the woods under cover of nightfall was all but impossible. One couldn't expect to walk even a few yards without tripping over something and risking serious injury, not to mention being utterly defenseless against nocturnal critters that could end a man with a single bite or sting. At least, that was Caim's protest. Yet, here he was, an hour deep into the Silent Forest, guided by Arioch, an elf that looked like he could fall over at any given moment, and a magical ball of light hovering tirelessly in front of them. It was on this ball that Caim's eyes had been focused for most of the trip. Its lethargic motion and dim glow… there was something about it that he found mesmerizing.

This ball was one of a supposed library of magics the elder was capable of, owed apparently to the markings Caim had mistaken for tattoos beforehand. According to the elder, it was a brand passed down by village elders to their successors, giving them access to all manner of spells. Coincidentally, this included healing spells that had proven very effective on Caim's leg before they set out.

The trip so far had been a quiet affair, as had everything else since the elder's return. Caim and Arioch hadn't spoken a word to each other, the gravity of the evening having taken its toll on the levity that existed between them earlier. Caim couldn't help but worry that this how the rest of her village felt. Were they all so suffocated by the pressure of the situation that they couldn't even speak to him? How could anyone that couldn't even face him follow him away from the comfortable life they would never be able to return to? Had he failed in his mission simply by attempting to carry it out?

He turned to the woman that had been nothing short of a savior to him, the one elf he knew was willing to ignore the stigma her people placed on his and reach out her hand in kindness. If he could only tell what she was thinking... for better or worse he could put his mind at ease. To his dismay, he couldn't make out her expression in the darkness of night. Even with the faint light highlighting the lines of her face, she was giving him nothing. Arioch returned his lingering gaze with a quick, disapproving glance of her own. Apparently, he was being obvious.

"My, this has been quite the awkward walk," the elder said. "Did something happen between you two? I trust you were an accommodating host, Arioch."

A barely audible sigh escaped the woman's lips. "Nothing happened, Elder. It's just… tense. Just this morning I woke up hoping this trouble with the humans would blow over if we just stayed out of their way." The elf shook her head, exasperated by how wrong she had been. "Now some stranger walks into our lives and all of a sudden I have to decide to throw away either my life or my heritage. It's really, _really_ , a lot to think about. And you want me to decide by tomorrow? You two are asking the impossible."

"So you _were_ thinking of going," the elder observed. "I thought you might be."

"...Are you disappointed?" she asked.

"No," the elder responded. "In fact, I was hoping someone would. As elder, I am duty-bound to preserve the ways of our people, and that means providing a home and leadership for those who wish to continue our way of life. But, it is also my belief that this is a fight we cannot ignore."

"Is it really that bad?".

"We'll find out soon enough," the elder responded. "But for now, Caim is better suited to answer that question than I, don't you think?"

The younger elf turned to the king, her expression more than enough indication that she expected an answer. He didn't want to scare her into throwing her life away, but the Union desperately needed every elf they could get, and to be honest, the truth really was terrifying.

"The situation is dire," Caim began, "and our response is late". Caim's grip on his sword tightened ever so slightly as he struggled to maintain his composure. "They have at least one. A black, demonic thing that looks like it was bred to kill. It came to my home, and within the hour reduced my country's greatest stronghold to ruins. When I regained consciousness in the aftermath, my parents were dead and I was king."

Caim's chest welled with anger as he remembered how powerless he was in that moment. All his devotion to body and blade, and there was nothing he could do… nothing he could do to protect Furiae, nothing he could do to save his parents, and nothing he could do to stop it from coming back. He could spend another twenty years locked in combat with the finest warriors in the land and hunting down Midgard's fiercest beasts, but the next time those blood red eyes met his own, nothing would have changed.

He had to work past this. Emotions like these clouded one's judgement, and he could afford no mistakes on the battlefield. After a deep breath, his mind was refocused and his heart was calm. "There was no way to stop it. Its black scales made it all but invisible against the clear night sky, and it would take a miracle for a ballista to find its mark at the speeds it was capable of. If things continue like this, the armies that are keeping the Empire at bay will fall, and nothing will be able to stop them."

"Dragons may not be the end of your worries, young king."

"How do you mean?"

"I looked into Nero and One as you asked. Unfortunately, as I mentioned earlier today, there is little to be said about Nero. He and his sister were banished from elven lands years ago, and we haven't heard anything of them since. Nero's companion, however, is less of an enigma. I'm curious, do you humans remember much of the intoners?"

Caim could have sworn he had seen the term in a book or two during his studies as a child, but he couldn't quite recall the specifics. "I can't say that I do."

"I'm not surprised," the elder said. "Their time in Midgard was brief, and human history has been nothing if not turbulent this past century. I don't know what human books will tell you about them, but I will give you the elven account. Almost a century ago, five humans wielding powerful song magic appeared in Midgard, and quickly began usurping powerful lords throughout the land. Eventually they reached the northeast, and claimed the birthplace of all magic, known as the Cathedral City, where their leader, an intoner named 'One' established the seat of a new empire. She split the land among the other intoners and ushered in an brief peace in Midgard."

"You said this 'One' was a woman?" Arioch asked.

"They all were," the elder clarified. "Five- no _six_ intoner sisters. There was another considered a heretic, called 'Zero', who claimed to be the first. Over time she killed all of her sisters and disappeared. Then, another 'One', a male by most accounts, appeared and continued holding Midgard together for a few more years before disappearing himself."

It sounded pretty implausible, all things considered, but Caim could never forget what he had seen. The scene of the blond man cutting through red eyes as though it were effortless, all while singing that ominous song… it would stay with him for the rest of his life. Even if nothing else in his tale was true, he knew that the intoners were very real, and so was their power. "So what if it is him?"

"Then you give up your pursuit," the elder snapped. "The Empire the intoners created, it was born from an ocean of blood. It only took five of these women to bring all of Midgard to its knees; if he holds even a fraction of an intoner's power then facing him would be suicide."

"Then how did Zero kill the intoners?" Caim asked.

The elder was clearly beginning to lose his patience. "Weren't you listening? She _was_ one, and even then she needed the help of a dragon to overcome them. You have no magic, and you certainly have no dragon. It's hopeless."

So the story got even more ridiculous. Caim found it hard to believe that _anyone_ could obtain the allegiance of a dragon, magical singing conqueror or not, but once again, he had seen with his own eyes that it was possible. If it gave him the means to fight an intoner, then he would be more than happy to look into the methods employed by the Empire to bring the winged serpents to their side. Just like with this expedition, he was confident he could convince the Union that allowing him to pursue this information was in their best interest.

Caim followed the elves further south, toward a destination that held much uncertainty. In the moments he was able to liberate himself from his fascination with the elder's guiding light, his mind would wander back to his encounters with One and the Black Dragon, scouring his recollections for any weakness, any bad habit that he could exploit when it finally came time to destroy them. His memory of such stressful situations wasn't clear enough to remember anything actually useful, but he found himself driven to immerse himself in these past events nonetheless. He did his best remember, but he struggled to maintain an analytical mind as the sensations of the memories overwhelmed him. He could feel the adrenaline overtake him as he scrambled to survive. He could feel the heat of dragonfire as it rushed around him. Most strongly and most sickeningly of all, he could still smell the smoke and odor of eviscerated corpses spilling into the air, filling his lungs with the scents of death and destruction. It was like he was there all over again.

Motion caught his eye, bringing him to see Arioch burying her nose and mouth in her sleeve. " _What_ is that smell?" came her muffled voice. "Is something on fire?"

Her questions brought Caim to the realization that the environment around him had grown just the slightest bit hazy, and the smells he thought he was only revisiting were very much real. Something was terribly wrong.

"A fire indeed," the elder said. "A fire, and something much worse. Ready your weapons, the southern village may be in danger."

Caim readied his longsword and prepared for the worst. Arioch followed suit, but Caim noticed for the first time that night that she was not carrying her bow. Instead, he watched the elf draw an exotic curved sword with spikes protruding from the blade from what had to have been a custom made leather sheath she wore strapped to her waist. Doing his best to ignore the alien weapon she possessed, Caim fell in behind the elder, and the trio rushed ahead toward the village.

At their new speed, they reached the southern village of Niflheim within minutes, and the source of the foul stench immediately became apparent. Laid out before their eyes was a massacre on par with the red eye riots. The bodies of elven men, women, and children were strewn about the ground in states Caim could barely stomach the sight of. Flesh exposed, limbs missing, and in some cases, being devoured by goblins. The hideous fiends danced around burning homes as the flames consumed the screaming innocents the beasts had corralled inside. What survivors still remained were dragged from their hiding spots and slaughtered. Then, there were some who had not been so lucky as to receive a quick death, mercilessly toyed with as the tiny monsters let out their unholy laughs.

Once again, Caim was faced with hell on earth.

Arioch wanted to scream, but she could not find her voice. She wanted to turn and run, but she could not find her strength. All she could do was watch in awe and agony as her kinsmen met their ends in ways she would not wish upon the worst of her enemies. Those few moments felt like an eternity she would never escape, but the sight of Caim in a mad dash forward broke her curse. She watched as he let the momentum of his advance carry his blade smoothly through the frail body of a goblin eating one of the fallen, passing as if the beast's body were made of air.

In that instant she could hear her own sword calling out to her, lamenting that it was the steel of another that ended that monster's wretched existence. He killed another, and another, and still her blade was clean.

Unacceptable.

Just as the beasts began to swarm to the king, the she-elf set upon them. Her blade sang with joy to have joined in the bloodbath, eager to stain itself red. Arioch had never been a violent girl, but she was happy to play the part now. She could feel no remorse as she killed, laying low beast after beast as quickly as she could find them. Her weapon was not as kind as Caim's. Its points gouged and tore at flesh when she struck, never allowing death to be a clean affair.

The elder was left at a loss. He could not lift a hand to defend his people or elven neutrality would be forfeit. He could not take Arioch back or elven neutrality would be forfeit. He had done everything he could to keep his people safe, and war had found them anyway. They had no time to prepare, no time to fight back, and no time to ask for help. The elves would face their fate alone.

As Arioch and Caim cleaned up the remaining goblins, Arioch found her senses growing dull. Dealing death lost its intimacy, and the powerless horde of goblins all seemed to fade into a blur. She was no longer killing individuals, slaying goblins or avenging her people. She was simply killing. There was no skill involved in what she did that night, only a bloodlust fueled frenzy.

Having lost discrimination long ago, her sword was met mid-swing for the first time, and to her surprise, quickly rent from her grip by her enemy. As the clang of steel striking the ground rang through her ears, she found herself face to face with Caim, his blade at the ready.

"What are you doing?!" he screamed. "Do you _want_ to die?!"

Having been separated from her weapon, reason flooded back to Arioch. "Did I… did I just attack you?"

"You did," Caim confirmed, slowly lowering his sword. "You looked like you had gone mad."

The elf quickly grew flustered and took in the scene around her. From the looks of it, they had saved no one, but all of the goblins had joined their victims in death. Arioch rushed to retrieve her weapon in a desperate search for distraction. As she picked it up off the ground, the impulse to kill returned to her, but in her sound state, its influence was naught but a fleeting whim, barely noticeable to her conscious mind. She returned the sword to its sheath without a second's hesitation, and struggled to offer an explanation to her companion.

"I don't know what happened," she managed in a quivering voice "When I saw all of this, I just lost control." Tears began to well in the elf's eyes as the reality of the situation washed over her. "I swung, and I swung, and I didn't want to stop until it all went away... Gods, it was awful…"

Arioch collapsed to her knees and wept, unable to contain herself any longer. Her cries carried through the brisk forest air, joining the crackling of fire and the moans of the dying as the symphony the world saw fit to play that night.

Unwilling to do Arioch the indignity of staring, Caim resolved to return to the elder, having been swept away from him in the tide of battle. When Caim returned and met his eyes, he was surprised to find not the anger that fueled revenge, but overwhelming sorrow in the elder's heart.

"Your answer hasn't changed, then?"

"I'm afraid it is not my answer to change, Caim. The future of the elves must be protected, even if the present is at risk. My people will flee, if we can. Those who wish to fight will find your Union when they are able; I trust you will give them a home among you."

That was all he could ask. As foul as it was to think such a thing, such a tragedy was just what was needed to inspire the elves' will to fight. His mission was complete. "Regrettably, I cannot know that your village won't have met a similar fate by the time we return. For my own safety, I will make for Union territory immediately." He extended a hand to the elder, who readily took it. "I wish you luck. I cannot thank you enough for all you have done for me."

"It is to her that you owe your thanks, human king," the elder said, motioning in the direction of Arioch, "and the best way you can repay her in this moment is to deliver her from this madness. She has unfortunately attacked the Empire; she cannot be welcomed back among my people."

Caim immediately understood the elder's intention. At the very least, the Union would be seeing one elf safely away from the Empire's grasp. "I assure you, she will be safe with me."

By the time Caim returned to Arioch's side, her tears had been replaced by numb silence. She had remained quietly seated on her knees, now staring straight into the ground. Unfortunately for her, active war zones were no place for mourning, and Caim could not afford to be patient. The king placed his arm under her distant shoulder and slung her closer arm behind his neck, hoisting her to her feet. She slung and endless torrent of protests and insults his way, but she never once struggled. She knew what her options were, and in time, she followed of her own accord. Arioch was an elf of Niflheim no longer.

In the days long journey back to Union borders, one question plagued Caim's mind more than any other.

What madness had taken him that he could walk away from such a hellscape unfazed?

* * *

 **A/N: I yet live. Most of my writing time is going toward an original project now, but I have no intention of abandoning this project before it is completed. Can't wait until the heavy hitters show up so I can write action scenes that aren't mob fights. Would appreciate feedback on this chapter in particular because I wasn't really happy with it most of the time. Curious to see if readers' opinions can help me pin down the issue or if I'm just in my own head. Zero/One chapter next.**


	5. Maiden Voyage

Sea water lapped at the hull of a wooden boat, glittering as it danced in the sun's light. The channel that separated the Land of Seas from the rest of Midgard was unusually calm, with only the humming of a young woman prevailing over the soft whisper of the sea breeze. One and Zero took in the view from the helm, never straying far from the steering captain.

Even from the rare vantages afforded to one on the back of a dragon, Zero never much appreciated the beauty of the natural world. Always having something to do or someone to worry about, this was one of the first times she had the chance to relax and truly take in the scenery. Even now, most of the view was lost on her. This was far from the first clear sky she had seen. Water was just water, no matter how much of it there was or how far it stretched. Still, there was a tranquility to it all that she just couldn't deny. The world may be facing yet another crisis, but for these few hours, she didn't have to do a damn thing.

One was a bit of a stranger case. She had been humming as though she didn't have a care in the world ever since they left port, but she still seemed off. Her posture was rigid, and her face seemed locked in its usual trance of inhuman concentration. This juxtaposition enticed Zero's curiosity for a time, giving her something to think about while she passed the time on their trip to her old home. She assumed that One _was_ actually relaxed, as evidenced by the melodic tune she had lost herself in, but that her stern nature had drilled perfect posture into subconscious habit without her even knowing. It seemed a reasonable enough explanation to her. She only wished One could think of another song; she had been repeating the same one over and over without a break.

"Finally free and you chose to sing," Zero jabbed. "A bit ironic, don't you think?"

A wry smile spread across One's lips, the first time they had been free from song the whole trip. "A bad habit, I guess. What do you usually do in your spare time?"

"I'm not really sure. Never had much of a choice in the matter."

Zero didn't have to say anything more for One to understand. She didn't share Zero's approach in dealing with them, but the sexual urges that came with being an intoner were undeniable. As much as she missed her old strength, there was no part of being an intoner that would convince her to don the shackles of overwhelming carnal desire once again. "Well, unless the captain's to your taste, you may have to come up with a new hobby."

The old man at the helm of the ferry let out a hearty chuckle, his belly shaking with each laugh. "Sorry, but I'm taken; wouldn't leave my old girl for the world. If you're open to suggestions, you could try to come up with some words for that tune your friend likes so much. It's a bit tiring after a while, but it's pleasant."

"It has words," One said. "I'm just not fond of them."

"That's a shame," the old man said, "I'd bet you could sell it to minstrels for a nice bag of coin. Or you could just sing it yourself. I don't think I heard a sour note out of you since we left port."

If only he knew. Singing and selling songs had comfortably seen them all the way from imperial territory to the south, and had even covered the fare for this ferry. One knew a great many, and readily shared those that weren't guaranteed to bring armageddon to humankind. A very welcome alternative to thieving or whoring for the money, both of which Zero had suggested.

It was good progress for two women that had nothing to their names, and they were able to learn much about the world from the traveling poets and musicians they met, but the hard part was yet to come. It had been nearly 100 years since they last walked Midgard. There was no guarantee that Mikhail still made the Land of Seas his home, or if he was still alive at all. If they could not secure his allegiance here, One doubted they could convince another dragon to join their cause before the Flower grew beyond their means to defeat.

"Hey, old man," Zero called, "Do you have any interesting stories about the Land of Seas?"

"'Land of Seas', huh? Haven't heard that in a while. Depends on what you mean by 'stories,' I suppose."

"You know, rumors or legends," Zero said. "The Land of Seas can be a strange place."

"That it can," the sailor agreed. "There's always the sea monsters, but I doubt that's what you mean. In all honesty, these parts have been pretty tame. The hierarch goes to great efforts to make sure the Temple on the Ocean is well protected, and the Empire likes safe waters, so monsters and the like have been rooted out of the area for the most part."

"You're sure there isn't anything?" Zero pressed.

"Well, when I first started out on these waters, I used to hear stories about a great white dragon that lived deep in the hills, but no one ever went missing or found its roost. You'd think after all these years I might have seen it flying once or twice, but no such luck. Not very exciting, I know, but it's the best I've got."

One and Zero traded optimistic smiles. "Don't worry about it," Zero said, "I was just a bit curious."

"Well we'll be ashore by sunset," the old man said. "If you want, you can scour the hills for the thing yourself."

"We just might," One said. Her worries slightly abated, she resumed humming her song, much to the annoyance of her travelling companions. As she gazed over the horizon, the shapes of a group of large ships came into view, their advanced industrial engines bringing them ever closer.

In a few minutes, the distance was closed significantly.

"Well would you look at that..." the captain, joined by his crew, gaped in awe at the sheer size of the Empire's ships, the closest of the ten just beyond a mile away. "How do you girls suppose that massive gun works?" the captain joked with a laugh.

One knew it was meant in rather condescending jest, but she happened to have been personally involved in its design, though short as her reign was, she didn't have time to move it past a prototype phase. As much as she would love to share, she doubted anyone onboard would understand. "No clue. What do you think brings them all the way out here?"

"Maybe they're here to invade," Zero said.

"There would be more of them," One said. "And there's no sense in diverting an invasion force to the Land of Seas while the Union still holds strong in the Land of Mountains. If anything, they'd just be leaving themselves open for attack. These ships should be part of a monster hunting task force. If they're here, it means there's some great beast threatening the peace."

"How would you know?" Zero asked. One matched her gaze, and that told her all she needed to know. "Of course."

"Blondie's right," the captain said. "They come out here every now and then when sea monsters start causing havoc, though I don't think I've ever seen this many before."

One squinted her ruby eyes, taking a closer look at the fleet of ships. If they were using her designs, maybe they were using her deployment patterns as well. "Well, based on their number and configuration…" For a brief moment, the eternal confidence in One's expression faltered. "Rose, we need to go. Captain! Take us as close to those ships as you can!"

"Are you mad!?" the captain shouted. "The Empire won't tolerate us interfering in their business. We'll be imprisoned or- or killed!"

"I'll double your pay," One said. "Just bring us closer; I promise they won't touch you."

"What?" Zero asked, "How the hell are we supposed to protect them?"

" _You're_ going to do it, because _that's_ a dragon hunting fleet."

"..."

"WHAT!?"

The firing of the main battery of one of the distant ships in the fleet rang out over the water, sounding the arrival of their target. More opened fire, and the reality of the situation became clear to Zero. A white dragon that could be no other than Mikhail flew amidst their artillery, well below the capabilities she knew were within his potential.

Zero flew into mania. "Fuck! That's him! He's so slow... he must be hurt! We have to do something!"

"Like I said, _you're_ doing something. I can sing if you can fight."

It took a moment for Zero to process what exactly One was suggesting. "Are you fucking crazy!?"

"Just shut up and get ready. Your body isn't the same as it used to be, so this might be pretty jarring for you." One took a passing glance at the captain, who by the look of his face couldn't decide if he was confused or terrified. "Cheer up, Captain. You get to hear the words to that song after all."

One took a final moment to clear her mind. Her lips had birthed the First Song into the world plenty of times, and she was well practiced. There was no reason for this to be any different. All that was required of her was perfection.

A deep breath, a pause. A scream.

 _Recording - An energy signature matching our record of The First Song has been detected in the vicinity of the Land of Seas. One remains the subject of my recording, and I can attest that he is not responsible for this event, but I cannot detect any other intoners and the Black Flower remains dormant. The singularity known as Caim has also deviated heavily from his usual actions, and while he is not my charge, I find this in combination with everything else to be very concerning. I will take some time away from my assigned duties to investigate this new source of the First Song. Depending on my findings, I may recommend this branch be closed immediately._

Zero felt an unfamiliar power swell through her body. It was so similar to the power she wielded as an intoner, yet entirely separate. The First Song was just as terrifying as it was when she faced it in the past. There could be no mistake that this was the real thing. They were taking an unbelievable risk singing the song at all, but for her to try to survive this fight with a power she had never used before… How was she supposed to kill anyone when she couldn't even think straight?

Mikhail weaved through the fire of the imperial fleet, sending two under the waves with his own. Even fighting against his own weakness he was able to avoid their rounds, and even in his weakness, the sound of one of the Flower's songs ignited a natural instinct within him. The dragon ignored the fleet altogether and raced to the nearby sailboat. Before he could destroy the boat, he caught a glimpse of long white hair that he had only seen once before.

"Zero!"

He didn't know how it was possible or what she was doing there, but it was unmistakably the same woman. Seeing her old partner reverted Zero's mind to a state of clarity. There was only one thing to do when Mikhail was with her.

"Hey Dumbass! Let me get on, we've got a fleet to burn!"

"But, that's One singing, isn't it?" Mikhail asked. "She looks a little different but that's definitely her."

"She's a friend, forget about her. We need to move before those guns can finish turning to the ferry. If One dies, we all do."

He didn't understand, but he had trusted Zero with his life plenty of times before, and she had never let him down. Mikhail swooped down and Zero leapt onto his back, just like she used to.

"I know you want to fight, Zero, but I don't feel good at all. I think we should run."

"They'll chase us," Zero said. "They'll kill One. She can still sing so we need her alive. Just do your best for me and help me sink that fleet."

"Got it. Let's go, Zero." The white dragon bolted away from the sailboat, drawing the empire's aim away from the others before they could fire. The terror that was the pair of Zero and Mikhail had returned to the world.

Mikhail assaulted the fleet and rained fire upon more ships, sending three to a watery grave. With Zero on his back, the white dragon found it within himself to redouble his strength, pushing well past the weakness his injuries placed on him. Sinking the rest of the fleet would be no problem at all.

Minutes passed and One watched in relief as Mikhail sank the last half of the imperial ships, finally able to end her song. Exhausted, but too happy that she survived to care, One pulled one of the coin pouches from her belt and tossed it to the captain.

"Ma'am, you have my thanks for your generosity but, what just happened?"

One raised her voice to address the entire crew. "What you just witnessed was the power of a lost art from the Old World called Song Magic. Its power is devastating, but so are the consequences of its misuse. One error in singing would likely end your life, so I'd ask you all to forget the song you've heard today and hope for your sake it never returns to your memory."

"Mikhail's hurt," Zero called as the dragon flew up alongside the boat. "They've had forces chasing him all the way from the Land of Mountains. Get on. We need to get to shore so he can rest."

There was no way she was jumping onto a moving dragon from a boat without powers, and she didn't want to risk moving while she sang. "Just go. I'll meet you at your home eventually."

"Do you remember where it is?" Zero asked.

"I do. I'm not the forgetful type."

"Well since I guess you're on our side now, take care, One," Mikhail said.

"Just get going. You're unwell, aren't you?"

"Oh yeah. I'm so happy I almost forgot." Mikhail giggled to himself almost all the way back to the old hut.

The hinterland of the Land of Seas was exactly how she remembered it. Lush greenery, flowing water, and more places to hide than an outlaw could ever dare hope for, her cottage among them.

When she arrived, she could scarcely believe it was still standing. It was halfway through being reclaimed by nature, and a lot of the wood looked like it was rotting from the constant exposure to moisture. "It's seen better days, but it looks like it will still keep the rain out."

"I've been keeping it safe," Mikhail said through near constant laughter. "There was nothing I could really do about the water, but it's still here."

Zero hopped off of Mikhail's back and walked into her cottage to inspect the inside. "Don't worry about it; we won't be staying here more than a week." As sure as she was that she hadn't said anything funny, the dragon's laughter continued. "Is something funny?"

"I just can't believe it's really you, Zero."

"...Yeah, me either. How are your injuries?"

"I'm not sure, I've never really been hurt like this before" Mikhail said. "I got hit by a few arrows and some other scary guy, but I don't know why I feel so weak. Do you have any ideas?"

"I don't really know," Zero said, flinging herself onto her thankfully insect-free bed. "I've never been much of a scholar, and I don't really know shit about dragons. You'll have to ask One when she gets here."

"She's coming? Are you guys friends now?"

"Allies, not friends. She wants to destroy the Flower and she can still sing, that's reason enough to put up with her."

"Aww. Well at least you're not fighting. I could tell it was making you sad when you did, Zero."

"That's enough. Go take a bath or something, you stink." The sounds of Mikhail taking flight were the last thing Zero heard as she drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

* * *

One waved a final goodbye to the crew of the boat that had taken her across the channel as she left the pier. Night had fallen over the Land of Seas, and from what she knew, it would take a couple days to reach Zero's home by foot. It seemed she had no choice but to look for lodging. Luckily, it didn't take much looking at all to find a conveniently located inn and tavern in the port town. One passed through the threshold, ready to pay whatever exorbitant fee they charge unsuspecting travelers like her.

However, there was another unpleasant surprise that awaited her inside. The entrance lobby was all but empty, save for one person. Waiting for her behind the wooden counter was an all to familiar face: Accord, the machine in human skin that had brought about her demise.

"My, my. I had considered the possibility, of course, but I'm surprised nonetheless." Accord walked out from behind the innkeeper's desk and approached the blonde. "The intoner One, in the flesh."

One tensed herself for what would no doubt be an impossible fight.

"Don't worry, I'm not technically allowed to fight you. I have strict instructions not to interfere with the progression of the branches I monitor."

"I'm sure you had those same instructions when you interrupted my song," One said. "You'll forgive me for not trusting your word."

The anachronistically dressed android walked over to one of the few tables that sat in the lobby, pulling out chairs for herself and One. " _That_ was a special occasion, and also not me. That model perished as a result of the damage she sustained from restraining you. She had reason to believe that the branch would terminate in a particularly catastrophic manner if you weren't defeated in that moment, given the amount of the Flower's power you were calling upon."

One took a seat across from the android, hanging her salty, damp overcoat on the back of the chair. "She was mistaken, as you may be aware."

"She was," Accord confirmed, "We severely underestimated your tolerance for the Flower's influence. We have records of you managing to summon as many as three angels without so much as breaking a sweat. However, I think you'll agree that the ending to the conflict she chose to pursue was... the cleaner outcome. We couldn't hope for much better than having the Flower and its intoners sealed beyond our dimension."

"Yet here we are."

"Indeed, a novel development among the branches we've observed. That's why I sought you out. I was hoping I would be able to ask for your insight into the present situation, given your rather unique perspective. For starters, can you tell me who you meant when you said 'we' just now? Are there other intoners that have broken their seals?"

"Only myself and Zero as far as I'm aware, though others may come in time, for better or worse. I suspect the latter."

Accord tapped on the frame of her glasses as she wrote down what she learned. "So Zero lives. That's reassuring. I admit I gave the notion of her return some consideration, but yours… most unexpected. I notice your eyes are still red, despite your seeming to have lost your intoner powers. Tell me, do you feel the Flower's influence at all?"

One sighed. "I don't have this Red Eye Disease that's going around, if that's what you're asking. They were red my entire life, they were red the moment I freed myself from the Flower, and they've remained red since."

"I see. And when singing the First Song-that was you, I assume-what about then?"

"No, not at all. I wasn't using the Flower's power then. That song was my very being for years. I was able to sing it entirely on my own."

Accord seemed shaken by this admission. "You sang the First Song on your own?" she asked incredulously. "Do you realize what you could have done? If you made even the slightest mistake, you could have-"

"Annihilated everything around me and summoned a Flower?" One interrupted. "As you must know, the Flower is already here; in my eyes there wasn't much of a choice to make. Besides, we're all still here. I think you'll agree I can sing it just fine."

The android's mouth hung slightly open as she took in One's insinuation. "You really didn't let your time in the Cathedral City go to waste. To be honest, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you knowing all that you do."

"A time-travelling machine that monitors divergent realities is the last person I want to hear that from," One said, not entirely in jest. "Did you have any more questions? I'm very tired and I'd like to sleep soon."

"Uh, yes, I did. Just one more, if you don't mind." Accord leaned in toward One. "What exactly is your plan?"

"We have Mikhail." One said. "His predecessor was enough to stop the Black Flower last time, and he was enough to destroy the remnant. I'm hoping he'll be enough this time too."

"I see. Well, I guess it makes sense. I can only hope that everything goes smoothly. You should know, this time has its own conflicts, and its own heroes and villains. You and Zero should be mindful of how the Flower's intrusion will affect that, rather than focusing solely on the Flower itself." The android rose from her seat and made for the door.

"Wait, I have a question of my own," One said.

"Alright, just the one then."

"Why are you still here? Zero told me your mission was to observe her actions, but you weren't aware of her survival just now."

"Goodness, you are sharp," Accord said with a sigh. "My mission was to monitor the actions of Zero and all resulting fallout and parties directly related to her existence. I'm sure you of all people can guess what remains from the crisis at the turn of the millennium."

"...He's still alive?"

"Sorry, it was one question only. Oh! I knocked out the innkeeper, so feel free to use my room. It's the second door on the right once you're up the stairs. Just wait for me to come back in the morning before you come down so I can vouch for you, okay?"

With that, Accord left, gone as quickly as she appeared. One had a lot on her mind and a long trip ahead of her, but what she really needed now was a good night's sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: Laptop broke so this took way longer than I wanted it too. Still using most of my writing time to work on another project, but I assure you this project will be finished. Would say next chapter coming soon but that's kind of a joke at this point. Let's hope I can surprise you. Shorter chapter because I took like 3 pages of content from this one and decided to save it for the next chapter. Next chapter is neither a Caim/Arioch or Zero/One chapter, and will provide context on Mikhail's circumstances leading up to his appearance in this chapter as well as the situation with the Black Flower's return as a whole. I want to do more to show One and Zero's personal relationship. Next chapter featuring them will probably be less plot and more of that, though I'm saving most of the character stuff until after a certain point in the future of the story. Thanks for taking the time to read as always. Reviews welcome.**


	6. Crimson Skies

The dry air of the Land Mountains sat calm and still, but it would soon stir with the fury of divine beasts. In the silence, the presence of a powerful being resonated within Gismor's body.

"It's close. Prepare for combat."

"It shall be done, Captain Gismor."

As his task force hustled about the abandoned fort, the imperial officer was the very image of calm. His breathing was deep and slow, and his mind was focused solely on the task at hand: they had to break a dragon. His force had been tracking it for weeks, chasing rumors of the creature from town to town until they found themselves here.

"Captain, the archers are in place and their arrows blooded. We await your command."

Red eyes, but by the grace of the watchers, not the bumbling drones that could scarcely string an original sentence together. They were inhumanly strong but kept their minds, and were Gismor's preferred choice when facing down dragons. That being said, there could be no mistake that his own combat power was the key to this plan's success.

"Captain Gismor, there! In the distance!"

Gismor looked to the west from his vantage atop the fortress walls, but was met with a sight far different from his expectation. The red dragon his wyverns were meant to be herding toward their fortress was nowhere to be seen. Instead, they found themselves being ripped to pieces by a foe far more powerful than they intended. A fully matured white dragon was making quick work of the imperial fliers. One by one, their bloodied corpses plummeted to the earth as they were bested by the mighty beast.

Gismor himself did not know the hierarchy of dragons nor the meanings of their forms or colors, but the shade he bore inside him made him well aware this dragon was several degrees of power stronger than the red dragon they pursued. The imperials watched on as the one-sided fight was decided in a final climactic moment, the dragon unleashing several bolts of magical energy that weaved through the air to find their targets' hearts. Then, the worst came to pass: the beast continued toward them.

This beast no doubt meant the death of his men, but with his pact, Gismor felt he may have a chance to survive. If their first volley of arrows soaked in the blood of elves found its mark, there may not be a fight at all. Terror reigned over Gismor's face as the dragon approached, the thunderous beats of its wings sounding like a singular, otherworldly war drum.

"ARCHERS READY!"

His men followed Gismor's orders perfectly, the curse of the red eyes all but banishing fear from their hearts. Their arrows now nocked, they watched in awe as the beast hurtled toward them at supernatural speed. The dragon had closed the distance from near the horizon to within their firing range in mere moments.

"DRAW!"

The imperials drew back their strings, fixing their aim on the dragon's flight path. At this time, the wizards of the troop also prepared their magics.

Gismor knew that they would only get one shot at this. The moment they fired upon the dragon, they were dead to rights, so they needed everything to count. Too far, and the dragon could reliably react and dodge, too close, and the shot would be near impossible to land on such a high speed target. He had to wait for the perfect moment, and when he saw it-

"LOOSE!"

A hail of arrows and fire from his troop of archers and wizards rained upon the dragon, some finding their mark. As Gismor had feared, the white dragon retaliated well before the elf's blood could take effect. Within an instant, the entirety of the fort was consumed by dragonfire and the deafening crack of crashing stone. Gismor narrowly shifted to his shade form in time to avoid utter annihilation, but the dragon's power was much more immense than any he had faced before. Levitating well above the range of the blast, Gismor took in the form of the dragon that had landed to examine the ruined keep. It was a majestic thing, perhaps even the epitome of natural might, but that was what he had to face to leave this place alive. The beast was a target, nothing more.

Steeling himself for the confrontation that awaited him, Gismor drew on the power of his shade and fired off a series of light rays that crashed onto the dragon's hide. The dragon cried in pain, immediately taking to the skies to confront the new aggressor. A sadistic grin spread Gismor's lips, the imperial officer taking pride in the knowledge that he could cause the creature pain. A being of this caliber likely hadn't felt pain in some centuries, if ever. He would remind it what it meant to know agony, to be among the living.

The white dragon circled the air in search of it's opponent, but Gismor had moved to conceal himself in the cloud of dust and smoke created by the dragon's initial attack. Before long, a new wave of attacks struck forth from the obscured source, striking the dragon yet again and nearly rending it from the sky.

Frustrated and furious, the white dragon beat its wings with unparalleled strength, doing what it could to clear the cloud of debris and reveal the imperial. It was in doing this, though, that the dragon surprised Gismor for the first time. Feeling its waning strength in beating its wings, the mighty dragon retreated, using what remained of its strength to fly off into the southern sky.

Gismor had not known dragons to be willing to abandon their pride and retreat. In fact, a fair number that had chosen vanity over reason now served the Empire as slaves. What made this one different? He would have to find out should he ever face the beast again. It remained a mystery why that white monster came to another dragon's territory. Perhaps a challenge? Whatever the case, he could only report on its existence and renew his efforts to capture the red dragon that inhabited these parts. The Empire had other means of making sure it didn't get far.

 **1 Day Later**

Most books she read as a child told her the sky was a gentle blue, but Fey, High Priestess and Suzerain of the Cult of the Watchers and its Empire, reigned under the red that marked her family since its inception. It had only been four short months since her liberation and ascension to power, but that was more than enough time to know that her brother and their ancestors had squandered the power of both their position and lineage. The world was shattered, run into the ground by the greed and arrogance of petty men like them, men that didn't even deserve the dirt they were buried under. She would make it right, unify it as One had. For all her life, her entire world had been a small room, a prison of stone and steel. Now, by stone and steel, Fey would imprison the world.

Many an unknown quantity slithered under her crimson sky. From a dark corner in the cathedral of the imperial capital, a bolt of arcane energy shot toward Fey's throne. The Suzerain lazed a hand into the bolt's path, dissipating it as it crashed into her own magical barrier. Elven magic.

"Step into the light, elven devil."

The perpetrator did as Fey commanded, walking toward the throne until she was well visible. A female elf of dark hair, exotic clothes, and a most unholy brand of depravity. A monster in woman's skin. The monster whose dragon freed Fey from her imprisonment.

"No guards, poor lighting, and distracted eyes. I was afraid you'd gone mad," the elf said, "or worse, complacent." She noticed a large pile of books piled a meter high at the side of the throne. "How are you enjoying your new home, 'High Priestess'?"

"This cathedral had not known madness until you stepped into its hallowed hall," Fey replied. "Why are you here? I didn't expect your work with your bastard dragon to have been completed so soon."

"I am here, child, because your ancestor still lives. Caerleon burns and its king is dead, but One was not there. She is a wanted criminal throughout the kingdom, so I thought they might have killed her, but the Black Dragon insists the First Song has been sung just yesterday." The elf laughed to herself. "The fools think One a man."

Fey took the topmost book from her pile and threw it at the elf, who caught it without a flinch. "One _is_ a man."

The brunette elf raised an eyebrow, examining the book and finding it to be the intoner One's personal journal. "One was first among the _goddesses_ ; there's no way."

"The Intoner One and the founder of the Cult of the Watchers are not the same," Fey explained. "The goddess had come to the conclusion that in order to seal the Flower, all six needed to die. She created a male twin of herself as a contingency to destroy whoever prevailed in her final confrontation with the rogue goddess." Fey opted to spare her counterpart the details of the two Ones' intimate relationship. In truth, it reminded her of her relations with her own late brother, Luis. While her ancestors' incestuous dalliance was a much more consensual affair, it was a similar enough circumstance to make Fey writhe in disgust.

The elf opened the journal and began to read, only to have another book thrown at her. This second book, the records of a chronicler who had supposedly observed the climax of their battle.

"The goddess was slain," Fey continued, "and Zero was sealed away by her holy dragon along with the Flower that had now come to rest wholly within her."

"But then the cult…"

"Founded undoubtedly by the forlorn brother, looking to champion the goddess's vision after her death." Fey motioned to one of the three-eyed banners that lined the cathedral's walls. "Shines a new light on quite a bit, don't you think? I wonder if your beloved pet could have enlightened us, given his clearly personal investment in the man."

"You could always ask him yourself," the elf challenged. "Make no mistake, fool girl. An oversized chair in a near ruined cathedral doesn't make you anything more than the mewling child you've always been." A plethora of magic circles formed at the tips of her fingers, a visual show of force, and a very credible threat.

An unwise move. The naive and frightened girl that the elf could intimidate at her leisure was long gone. The elf wouldn't know that while she was away, two women with what Fey now knew to be _very_ concerning descriptions were found at the Mercurius Gate and had since escaped. The elf had her magic, but Fey had her mind. The high priestess pulled the now deceased jailer's report from an interior pocket of her robe and held it in the air.

"What is that?"

"The key to our success," Fey said. "Newly discovered enemies that we must address immediately in order to bring this broken world to its knees." The High Priestess waved it playfully in the air before engulfing it in flames. The paper had turned to ash between her fingers. Her defiance clearly angered her liberator, but that was what Fey wanted. "You look awfully scary right now, she-devil. Are you going to hurt me?"

"You're bluffing," the elf accused through clenched teeth.

"Then kill me," Fey calmly proposed. "I am not defenseless. You may leave this cathedral, but you will do so maimed," she taunted. "Take your winged deceiver that's been repelled by an imitation intoner every time they've met, and conquer Midgard. Use your stolen magic that couldn't save your people from one goddess, and use it to control the Flower that ruled over six."

Fey stood up and leisurely approached her seething aggressor staring he brunette dead in the eyes. "Kill me, and be met by a foe you will not be prepared for."

"You lie."

"Then kill me, _fool girl_."

Fey stood a breath away from the nameless elf, unblinking. She was afraid, terrified even, but she showed no fear. Eventually, the elf broke out in laughter that echoed throughout the giant cathedral. When she finally gained control of herself, she spoke. "To think the last time I saw you, you were still a self-righteous brat with a bit of magic and a vendetta. What's changed?"

The High Priestess turned and walked back to her throne, standing before it in reverence. "I learned the truth. A girl drowning in self-pity cannot fill the shoes of the goddess. If I am to deliver Midgard from the tyranny of men as my ancestor did, I must be unwavering in my conviction." Fey once again took a seat in her throne. "I will make this world burn."

Music to the elf's ears. "We'll keep playing along, Fey, but you had best deal with your new 'enemies' as quickly as possible. If they so much as touch me, I swear you will suffer an agonizing death. Your conquest is not the only way for me to get what I want."

"Believe me, I will have them destroyed," Fey assured. "Now, for the rest of our business. You say you've been to Caerleon; did you take care of the other matter we discussed?"

"I did," the elf said. "The elf villages are all under attack, if not already fallen. The goblins are making it too quick for my tastes, but I guess their raw savagery is something to be appreciated in its own way."

Fey had long since grown accustomed to hearing of the elf's unsavory proclivities. "And what will you do now?"

"Keep hunting the impostor," the brunette said. "Either I find him, or he comes to you. Whichever comes to be, you bury your traitor and I get to eviscerate my brother."

Fey took a moment to think before deciding. "Very well. In that case, would you follow me outside for a moment?"

The two walked the immense hall and descended the myriad stairs that connected the lofty cathedral to the rest of the city. The elf didn't really have to guess what Fey wanted to show her. The Black Flower they unsealed together dominated the sky, the crown jewel of Fey's Empire. At least, they hoped it would be. For now, it was nothing more than a decoration.

"Has your daughter seen it yet? Does she know what you're trying to unleash on the world?"

"No," Fey admitted, her eyes downcast, seemingly weighed by guilt. "I've actually done quite a bit to keep Chloe away from me since coming here. I can barely tolerate her at the best of times; if I have her nearby while dealing with the stress or rule… I will hurt her, I just know it. I do not love her, but she doesn't deserve that. I'd rather she have an absent mother than a cruel one."

"Have you given any thought at all to what she wants?"

Fey quickly pulled herself together, pushing her daughter far from her mind. "Chloe is not your concern. If you would direct your attention to the Flower, you'll see it's still dormant."

"You really don't think I noticed?"

"Yes, well, I was wondering if the elves had any knowledge about how to awaken it. I've poured through One's library and I've found nothing. She didn't think for a moment to harness its power; she only sought to destroy it. Apparently even the Lords of the Land that preceded her in controlling the Cathedral City barely understood it."

The elf witch rolled her eyes. "I stole my chief's magic, not his knowledge."

"Unfortunate," Fey said. "Then, I'm afraid I must complicate your task. Do what you will with your brother, but I need you to bring One back here alive. He may only be a fake, but he is an imitation of a true intoner's power, and his song is her Flower-given First Song. Perhaps if we make him sing here, his power will resonate with the Flower and awaken it from its slumber."

"I guess it's worth a try. Taking him alive is going to be a pain in the ass though."

"Think of it as a chance to have some fun," Fey suggested, turning around and beginning back toward the cathedral. "I would ask that you leave as soon as you are able."

The elf groaned, shouting back at the retreating blonde. "I'll go, but how exactly is this supposed to be fun!?"

The High Priestess stopped, only slightly turning her head to address the witch. Even at this distance she spoke softly, demanding she listen intently. "Get creative. He only needs to be able to sing."

The realization struck like a bolt of lightning. The possibilities were endless. She could maim the fake and make him watch as she ripped her brother limb from limb or… or…

Without a word of summons, the black dragon swept down from aloft, presenting itself before the elf. "To the south!" she shouted, climbing upon its back. "We follow the song!"

The black dragon let out a mighty roar before taking to the sky, kicking up as much air as it could. While Fey hadn't diverted from her path back inside, and thus hadn't seen the dragon in its brief arrival, something told her this ostentation was meant to intimidate her. It was almost as if it had heard their entire conversation. A worrisome beast indeed.

Upon returning to the cathedral throne room, she was met with yet another surprise. A long dormant sigil that was inscribed into the floor of the cathedral flickered with life, soon emitting a full, constant white light. A "spacebridge" or so she had read. She had found it here when she first arrived four months ago, and had devoted much time to learning how to reactivate it.

Before long, one of the few confidants to whom she had entrusted knowledge of the sigil's existence appeared before her. The fruit of her labor was a success.

"Captain Gismor," she greeted. Young, but one of the most capable men in her service, and arguably the linchpin of all her empire's current endeavors. Despite being barely twenty, he had an unmatched dignity about him. "You have news?"

The bearded man knelt before her, not returning to his feet until she had resumed her throne. "I do, High Priestess. I have failed; my men are slain."

Gismor had already defeated and broken a number of dragons. For his first failure to come now was... unexpected, to say the least. "For a man of your caliber, I expect there is good reason."

"Our prey eluded us," Gismor explained, "the red dragon was nowhere to be found. My forces instead were faced yesterday by a holy dragon we had heard no word or rumor of, fully mature. A beast far more powerful than we were prepared for."

"Far more powerful, indeed," Fey said. If this could possibly be the dragon One wrote of in her journal then Fey's plans were in much greater jeopardy than she had initially thought. "Tell me everything."

"There isn't much to tell, High Priestess. It defeated our wyverns in moments, and annihilated the fortress we had taken to face the red dragon with a single attack. I survived the blast and fought it for a time, but it retreated to the southeast before I could press my advantage."

Roughly the direction the elf witch headed for. The Land of Seas, maybe. "You believe you had an advantage?" Fey questioned.

"I do, though the smallest mistake still would have meant my death. My archers managed to loose a single volley of blooded arrows before their demise. Some of them found their marks."

"So you nearly defeated it?"

"Perhaps, but what's important is that I did _not_ defeat it. Dragons are creatures of unparalleled vanity, High Priestess. If it felt itself weakening from the blood and threw aside its pride to retreat… I suspect this dragon is extremely dangerous."

The suzerain sighed, the obstacles before her seeming to be constantly growing larger. There was no telling how a confrontation between the black dragon and this holy dragon would go, nor which of the outcomes would be most preferable. There was also the matter of the First Song. Like the other goddesses' songs, it was not recorded; only the imposter One could be the source. That was, of course, unless the women that appeared at the Mercurius Gate were indeed who Fey expected them to be. Things were about to get interesting.

In the meantime, the whole of the Empire still demanded her attention. The Union continued to prove themselves a threat, and Oror would not let an imperial incursion into their Land of Seas go unchallenged. The witch and her dragon were on their own.

"Captain Gismor, you preserved your life in the face of unexpected danger and have gained practice against a powerful foe. I would not consider yesterday's events to be a failure. You will face no punishment."

The devious looking man bowed in response to her declaration. "I thank you, High Priestess."

"I'm giving you four days to spend at your discretion, whereupon you will return here to assume command of your replacement task force," Fey said. "I expect you to continue your pursuit of your original quarry, the red dragon of the Land of Mountains."

"And what of the holy dragon, High Priestess?"

To the people of the Empire, Fey was the sole ruler. The elf witch and her black dragon that killed Luis did not exist. This secrecy was a mutual agreement. If it were made known that the High Priestess and Suzerain owed another anything, her image and influence would dissipate. Just as the imposter One, the very founder of the cult, had been perceived as weak and deposed, so too would she. Her one chance at retribution would be lost, as would the elf's chance to watch the current world be destroyed. Even Gismor could know nothing.

"I will devote much of my time to finding a way to deal with this new problem, but until I have a solution, I would ask that you focus on the task at hand. If you encounter it again, avoid confrontation at all costs."

"Of course."

"You are dismissed."

* * *

One stood in front of a wooden two story building, his blade drawn and dripping fresh blood onto the soil below. This building was a brothel, one of few still taking customers so close to the Union's front line. This is where he would find Nero, as he had so many times before. One kicked in the front door with inhuman strength, sending it flying off its hinges and into the receptionist's desk. The panicked shouts and screaming of the men and working girls did nothing to soften the intoner's heart. They were human no longer; these were the cries of animals.

The blonde man stepped into the building, cutting down a woman as she tried to escape through the door behind him. His intentions now known, the other occupants scrambled away from him, but it would all be for naught. One broke into a sprint, his dragonbone blade slicing clean through the bodies of his victims. The scent of iron tinged the air as the bloodletting reached its climax, leaving none of the innocents alive.

Not seeing his partner, the effeminate man proceeded upstairs, where he expected he would find the clients' rooms. One by one he checked the rooms, passing over vacancies and slaughtering those he found inside. Eventually, one door revealed the man he sought. Buried underneath to women was Nero, in all his natural glory.

"Nero!"

The elf only needed one glance at the blood-soaked man to understand the situation he was in. "Oh come on," he muttered to himself. "Well, sorry ladies; it was fun." With a flash, One dispatched the two women entertaining his partner.

The elf rushed to dress himself, failing to locate his arbalest. "Been busy, huh? Here too?"

One felt that the answer was self-evident. "Let's go, we need to leave."

"Leave? You killed the _whole_ town already?"

"Someone might have escaped if I searched for you first. Besides, I thought you would appreciate the time."

"Ha! Well I'll have to treat you to a drink next time we're in a town we don't wipe off the map." Nero tied his headband over his tattooed forehead, finishing his ensemble. "So, where to next?"

"East, to the Empire," One answered. "We've done a bit too much behind Union lines lately. I worry we might be drawing too much attention to ourselves."

"Or we could head further into the Union," Nero said. "They're just as likely to blame this slaughter on the Empire as they are us."

One was immediately suspicious of his partner's motives, but it was worth at least hearing out. "Did you have something specific in mind?"

A foul grin spread across the elf's lips. "I think we should pay that princeling another visit," Nero said. "I left a pretty nice toy back there, and you still need to get payback for that souvenir he gave you." Nero motioned to One's abdomen, where a scar hid underneath his white jacket. "Plus, I never got a taste of the princess."

One didn't even give the proposal a moment's thought. "No. We head east."

"Really?" Nero prodded, "Even though we left that place to the Red Eyes? Who knows how badly it would have spread by now? I'd say it's your responsibility to go back and make sure the carriers are dealt with properly."

One took Nero's misplaced arbalest from the floor beside the bed and shoved it into his chest. "To the _Empire_. If the Red Eyes are this active, someone's actively spreading it. It's time I paid someone a visit." One left the room and headed for the exit.

"Oh? A family gathering huh?" Nero asked, following after the intoner. "Alright, let's see if this Luis is as much of a deadbeat as you are."

The pair of One and Nero walked toward the dawn in the east, a river of blood in their wake.

* * *

 **A/N** **: Surprise! It didn't take me six months this time. Another shorty, but I kind of consider this to be a companion chapter to the previous one. Needed to establish all of the parties in play in this alternate timeline before we get any big plot lines rolling, so it was kind of a necessary evil. I'm enjoying writing Fey more than I expected I would. Next chapter is Zero/One/Mikhail again, but there's a small chance I'll squeeze in a Caim/Arioch mini chapter first to get them moving again. Next chapter will most likely take me more than just a few days, but it shouldn't be all that long. As always, thanks for reading.**


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